


Distorted Reality

by Zee_Hawthorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Mystery, Post-Hogwarts, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Build Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-07-23 18:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee_Hawthorn/pseuds/Zee_Hawthorn
Summary: HPDM// There was no four-poster bed where he had wisely fallen asleep the day before, nor was it the Gryffindor’s dorm with the famous red and gold colors as he expected to find it... Harry’s heart beat to death, realizing he had no idea where he was...





	1. Apophenia

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody,
> 
> I decided to translate my latest Harry Potter fanfictions into English:)  
> I hope this is understandable and that there will not be too many grammatical mistakes...
> 
> Wishing you a pleasant reading :)
> 
> Paring : HPDM
> 
> Rating : M
> 
> Disclamer : all rights to JK Rowling

It’s been weeks since Harry was convinced something was up.

He had debated the matter at length with Ron and Hermione, trying to prove by all means at his disposal that he was absolutely right.

But his best friends had decreed that the little information he had was unfounded and particularly flawed to take it into consideration.

Remus and Mr Weasley also went along with them, claiming the same arguments as his two friends.

Despite everything, Harry stuck to his guns, determined to prove that Draco Malfoy had become a death eater and that he clearly had a mission for Voldemort.

He was all the more certain, since Malfoy had half confessed it to Snape, when he had followed them, leaving Slughorn's party to listen to their conversation.

Although he had never seen the mark on his arm, it was obvious to Harry that Malfoy was involved in the same schemes as his father, to the benefit of their common master.

That’s why, that night again, Harry was lying in bed, browsing the Marauder’s map widely unfolded, looking for Draco Malfoy who had not stopped obstructing his thoughts since the beginning of the year.

Crunching in a cauldron cake, he ends up locating him, climbing the steps of one of the stairs, towards the seventh floor.

Harry frowned, wondering what the hell Malfoy was doing on that floor. There was nothing except the Gryffindor’s common room.

Maybe he was about to set some traps that Harry and his classmates would find the next morning when he came out of the portrait?

As prefect of his house, the Slytherin was assigned only to the dungeons of the castle to carry out his rounds and therefore had nothing to do in the other parts of the school.

The point bearing the name of Draco Malfoy moved slowly, stopping from time to time, turning on itself, moving closer to the different walls to move away and continue its way.

Malfoy was obviously looking for something in particular but Harry had no idea what it could be...

“Still looking at that map, huh?” Ron asked from his bed.

Harry glanced at him and nodded silently.

“You realize that’s all you’ve done every night of the week?” Ron added, exasperated.

“So what?” Harry mumbled, annoyed, standing up a bit on his headboard.

“Honestly, Harry, do you really think this is going to help you? That you’re going to find out what Malfoy is up to, if he’s up to something?” Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.

“We’ve talked about this before, Ron, I’m sure of what I’m saying!” Harry claimed, following the point on the map.

Ron sighed loudly before sinking deeper into his blankets.

“You’re out of your mind, you know that?”

Harry gave him a black gaze before biting his cauldron cake again.

“You’ll thank me when I prove to you that Malfoy is indeed a death eater and you’ll bite your fingers for not believing me,” he replied.

Ron didn’t answer him, turning off the light from his bedside table, rushing into his soft sheets.

Harry focused again on his map to see Malfoy still in the middle of a hallway in front of a deadlock.

Harry frowned for a moment before remembering that on the seventh floor there was, in fact, something other than their dorm.

A room he had long used in the previous year with many of his classmates.

The Room of Requirement had been the landmark of Dumbledore’s army where Harry and his friends had secretly studied the Defense Against the Dark Arts, much like the most useless Umbridge’s courses, allowing them to perfect themselves in different spells.

He fixed the point bearing the name of his enemy before seeing it disappear.

_Oh, it was that…_

Malfoy was going into the room for a reason, Harry didn’t know what yet, but he was going to do everything he could to find out...

Harry made the decision to stand in front of it every night Malfoy went, asking the room to take him where Malfoy would be.

He fixed one last time the place where Malfoy’s name had disappeared a few seconds earlier, before putting the map flat on his bedside table and turning off the lamp in turn.

He laid down, brought the blankets over his body, turning sideways, so as to keep an eye on the drawing of the empty corridor in case Malfoy came out.

_Tomorrow... tomorrow, I’ll know..._

Harry stayed in this position for a long time, until he felt too tired to keep his eyes open and ended up closing them.

OoOoOoOo

The light of day burned his retinas over his eyelids, which he creased strongly before sticking a hand on them to preserve them.

Harry sat up, rubbing his face before spreading his hands to open his eyes.

He was surprised to see blurred, remembering to have kept his glasses to observe his map before abandoning himself to sleep.

Harry looked for them, patting with his hand on his nightstand. Once found, he put them on his nose, noticing that they had a different shape.

He pushed them aside slightly to see that they were not round as usual, but rectangular and finer.

Harry frowned before sticking them back to his nose and opening wide his eyes to the decoration of the room around him.

There was no four-poster bed where he had wisely fallen asleep the day before, nor was it the Gryffindor’s dorm with the famous red and gold colors as he expected to find it...

No, it was a large bedroom with a large double bed, with clear walls and no different posters of Seamus' favorite Quidditch team or Chudley Cannons.

Instead, several shelves were hung on them where a few trinkets, here and there, were sitting, including cups where a small snitch was flying happily at their summits.

Harry’s heart beat to death, realizing he had no idea where he was...

_Where the hell am I?!_

He lowered his eyes to himself, noticing that he was not wearing pajamas as usual, but simply wearing black cotton underpants.

«Finally awake... It’s about time... » a dragging voice made to his right.

Harry jolted, acknowledging the tone of that voice between a thousand and turned his head sharply in his direction.

_What the hell is **he** doing here?_

Draco Malfoy stood to his right, a grin adorning his lips, dressed in a dark three-piece suit, bringing out the pale of his skin and the whiteness of his blond hair.

An amusing glimmer was in his silver-grey eyes as he looked at Harry as he had never done before.

Harry breathed hard, turning his head frantically, looking for his wand.

He also found it wisely placed on his nightstand and pointed it in front of Malfoy, rising quickly.

Malfoy had a move of retreat, raising his eyebrows of surprise.

“Malfoy, where are we? And what the hell are you doing here?” Harry asked, completely panicked.

The Slytherin blinked.

“What do you mean, “Where are we”?” He replied, confused.

"Answer, bloody hell!" Harry hissed, wickedly.

Malfoy looked at him, frowning as if he didn’t understand where he was getting at.

"Harry, are you sure you’re all right?" he finally asked, looking worried.

Harry stiffened, opening wide his eyes, stunned.

«Fuck, Malfoy answers! And since when do you call me by my first name?! » Harry shouted, walking a little more, his wand in front of him.

Malfoy looked lost, looking at him as if he met him for the first time.

“We’re home…Potter,” he answered with his dragging voice.

Harry frowned.

" _Home_? But what’s this bullshit?" he hissed, annoyed by his enemy’s attitude.

Malfoy gauged him for a moment before answering.

“Harry, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop now because you’re starting to scare me.”

“Stop calling me by my name, fuck! For the last time where are we? ” Harry shouted.

The amused glow in Malfoy’s eyes had given way to misunderstanding and Harry would have sworn to see pain.

“I told you, this is our home,” he said, calmly.

Harry glanced around him, his wand still stretched to Malfoy.

His gaze turned to witch photos where Ron and Hermione were with him, smiling and bickering.

Still others where Malfoy was with them, some of the Slytherin whom he vaguely remembered of the name were sitting, lifting a pint of ButterBeer and smiling at him nicely.

Then his eyes stopped at one last picture, hovering in the middle of the nightstand. Harry felt pale, and without releasing his wand, took a step to the side and took the picture in his free hand, trembling slightly.

He and Malfoy hugged, or rather _Harry_ took him in his arms, behind him, his head resting on his shoulder. They were laughing. Then Harry put a light kiss on Malfoy’s cheek, then Malfoy turned his head and gently grabbed his lips to kiss him.

Harry looked up from the picture, to look at Malfoy, then turned it towards him, stunned.

“What the hell is this fucking shit?!” He blew.

Malfoy looked at the picture for a moment before anchoring his steel eyes in his own.

“Har...”

Harry stretched his wand a little more in protest, forbidding him to go further.

“Potter… Are you feeling okay?”

_Bloody hell, do I look okay, asshole?!_

“Why are we doing _this_ in this photo? What does it mean, what does it _all_ mean?” Harry shouted, out of him.

Malfoy remained silent, staring at him, seeming to seek a plausible answer to bring him.

Harry suddenly realized that he seemed changed.

He looked taller, more muscular as well, although always slim and slender. His hair was no longer clad back as usual, resting on the sides, adorning his fine face, less sharp than in his memories, a few strands running through his forehead, fallen before his eyes.

Malfoy seemed to have grown, he had lost his adolescent features, and the muscles of his jaw were contracted, giving him a rather attractive young adult look.

“Potter, you … you really don’t know where you are?” he asked, seeming to finally understand what Harry was saying to him.

“You honestly think I’d ask you if I did? Fuck it, Malfoy! Why are there pictures of us everywhere and why do we look like a loving fucking couple on this one?” Harry shouted.

Malfoy laid his eyes on it again, painfully.

“Because that’s what we are…” he blew without leaving it.

Harry had a recoil movement, widening his eyes.

"Sorry? Can you repeat?" He asked, perplexed.

Malfoy sighed, raising his grey eyes to him.

“We’re together, Har… Potter... for almost 8 years now,” he claimed, the most seriously in the world.

Harry jolted, his heart missing a beat, unleashing the photo that ran aground on the ground.

“Wha- what?” Did he strangle himself, wavering on the bed where he ends up sitting, bringing back a trembling hand in his hair, releasing the pressure on his wand, lowering it a little.

Malfoy took the opportunity to approach slowly, cautiously, still seeking contact with his eyes.

"You really don’t remember?" he asked, a wound in his voice.

Harry looked at him, stunned, a glimmer of madness in his eyes, shaking his head negatively.

_It’s not possible..._

Malfoy got a little closer, stooping slightly to his height.

“What is the last thing you remember, exactly?” he asked softly.

Harry took a deep breath, swallowing with difficulty, his heart prey to a mad race, before answering.

“I was in my bed…in Hogwarts…I was…” he interrupted, looking for his words.

“Hogwarts?” exclaimed Malfoy, raising a perplexed eyebrow.

Harry answered nothing, trying to find a regular breath, staring at a point in front of him before frowning and raising his eyes at Malfoy.

“What year is it?” he suddenly asked.

Malfoy looked at him attentively, looking a little lost.

“Malfoy, what year?” Harry added, pointing his wand back to him.

"2006" he answered with his dragging voice.

Harry’s breath got stuck in his lungs, raising eyebrows totally stunned.

"2006…" Harry blew, his heart racing even more. “It’s impossible…I was in Hogwarts, in sixth year, in my dorm…about to…reading. How did I get there? How did this happen?” he added.

He got up, by-passing Malfoy, his two hands shoving his hair, his wand still in one of them.

“I’m dreaming? Yes, that’s probably it, I’m in the middle of a nightmare,” he added for himself.

“Potter… You’re not dreaming,” Malfoy said in a deep voice.

Harry didn’t listening to him anymore, his eyes staring down at the ground looking for a solution that didn’t seem to come.

“I’ll wake up soon and everything will be fine,” he adds, laughing nervously.

“Potter! It’s not a dream, it’s… It’s _real_ ” Malfoy retorted with a louder voice to cover Harry’s delusion, visibly trying to make him listen to reason.

Harry, almost feeling a panic attack, looked at him, shaking his head, looking indecisive.

“No it’s impossible, how could it be true?! How could I forget _ten_ years of my life? How could I be with… _you_ …?” he answered in a breath.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows before smiling bitterly.

“It’s a question I asked myself for a long time,” he replied with a grin.

Harry frowned.

“But…For fuck’s sake, Malfoy, we hate each other, _you_ hate me” he furiously said.

“Not anymore” Malfoy said, anchoring his eyes to the depths of his own.

Harry gauged him for a moment before he made a slight grin.

“I don’t believe you... I’m sure you hex me, you hex me a Confundus Charm!” he accused, wrinkling his eyes, his wand well stretched between them.

Malfoy sighed, shaking his head.

“I didn’t hex you, Har… Potter, but I’m starting to think you do have a problem,” he said.

Malfoy took a step to the side, heading for the next room.

“Where are you going? What are you going to do? ” Harry asked, reaching forward to threaten him.

Malfoy stopped in the door gap, lowering his shoulders, resigned.

“I’m about to contact your friends through the floo, maybe you’ll listen to them,” he explained without bothering to turn around.

Harry weighed the issue, then nodded, moving to point his wand at Malfoy’s neck.

"Go ahead, I’m with you," he said, pushing on the end of the stick to move him forward.

Malfoy made a little sneer before he walked through the door, Harry on his heels.

They arrived in a well-lit room with a large bay window, the rain from the outside pounding on it, the sound of the wind blowing softly.

Harry guessed that it was the living room, a soft sofa in the middle of the room, soft cushions resting on each armrest. A large glass coffee table placed in front of it, a luxurious carpet surrounding it, to finish with a beautiful large fireplace all in moldings, a black grid decorated with sumptuous designs protecting them from the fire that emanated from it.

Harry blinked, stunned by the luxury in which Malfoy seemed to live, even if he expected this kind of abode from an aristocrat of his rank. Everything seemed to have been chosen and tidied up with care, an aspect of Malfoy’s personality without a doubt.

Malfoy walked slowly towards the fireplace, kneeling to remove the grate he laid on the side, Harry following his every move.

Malfoy then plunged his hand into a terracotta pot and removed some of the floo powder which he threw into the hearth.

“The Burrow” he announced distinctly from his dragging voice.

Harry frowned, surprised by the name, not suspecting for a moment that Malfoy knew the little name of the Weasley’s house.

The fire took on a greenish color and after a few seconds, a familiar face materialized before them.

Ron stood in the midst of the green flames, with a radiant smile illuminating his features.

“Oh Draco, we wondered where you were both at” Ron’s face asked, amid the soft crackling of burning logs around him.

Harry opened wide his eyes by the familiar tone of his friend when he spoke of Malfoy, his smile always on his lips despite his interlocutor.

“We’re going to be a little late, I’m afraid, Har... Potter doesn’t look very well...” The Slytherin explained with his draggering voice, also a little anxious, Harry noticed.

Ron frowned, and then turned his eyes to Harry before he opened wide them.

“Harry? Still not dressed? But... why are you pointing your wand at Draco?” he asked, going from Harry to Malfoy, without understanding.

“Draco? Since when do you call him like that? Fuck, Ron, can you explain what the hell is going on?” Harry spit out, feeling the panic coming back.

Ron’s face closed as he turned his eyes toward Malfoy, with a serious glance.

“As you can see, we have a slight hiccup” Malfoy weakly sneered towards Ron.

“What’s happening to him? What’s wrong with him?” Ron asked, puzzled.

“What do you mean what’s happening to me? Ron you hear yourself? You just called Malfoy by his first name for fuck’s sake! I’m the only one who thinks this is totally absurd?” Harry shouted, squeezing his wand tighter between his fingers, sticking it a little deeper into Malfoy’s neck, who groaning with pain.

Ron blinked several times before turning slowly without leaving Harry’s eyes.

"Hermione, please come, it’s urgent!" he shouted behind him.

There was a small sound of a distant chair before a clump of brown hair appeared in their field of view.

Hermione smoothed her hair quickly before smiling at them.

"Oh Harry, Draco are you ready soon?" she asked before wrinkling her eyes, the corners of her lips lowering.

“Mione, I think Harry is not well...” Ron explained in a very serious tone.

"Hermione! Can you _please_ explain to me what is happening here, I don’t understand anything anymore..." Harry added, hoping she can help him see things through.

“Hi Hermione, as you will no doubt have noticed, there is a little problem with Har... Potter and I doubt we’re on time for the reception,” Malfoy added of his dragging voice.

Hermione frowned.

“Harry, what happened? Why are you threatening Draco like that?” She asked, puzzled.

“Not you too, please, what the fuck did he do to you, Huh? What did you do to them, you fucking ferret!” Harry spited out, leaning on Malfoy in a bad way.

"Ok... we have a serious problem, obviously..." Ron noticed, in a serious tone.

“You think so?” Malfoy added, with a sarcastic eyebrow.

Harry’s breathing became more difficult to control as he saw the situation slipping away.

“Ron, go tell your mother we’re going to be late for the ceremony, tell her we’re going to Draco and Harry and we’re going as fast as we can,” Hermione said seriously.

Ron nodded before disappearing from the green flames, dancing softly in the fireplace.

"Harry, tell me what happened?" Hermione asked in a soft voice.

Harry began to lose patience, not understanding why his best friends also seemed to believe that he and Malfoy lived together as a couple.

“What happened? But it doesn’t show? I wake up here while I was in my fucking bed in Hogwarts and this bloody ferret tells me that we’re in 2006, as a couple, that we live together and that he calls me Harry! And you... and Ron... you... you... what the hell is going on!” he shouted, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Calm down, Harry, it’s all right... We’ll be there in a few minutes, let Molly know and we’ll be with you, okay?” Hermione said, in a soft voice, raising hands as a sign of appeasement.

Harry tightened his teeth, the muscles of his jaw contracting painfully, before nodding dry.

Ron came back next to her slightly out of breath.

"It’s okay, we can go," he said, nodding from the chin.

“Draco, Harry, step aside as you can” she added, grabbing a handful of powder that Ron was handing her in a small bag.

Harry retreated, abruptly pulling Malfoy’s collar towards him, his knees scraping the ground, making him groan.

Once far enough from the hearth, there was a detonation and the greenish faces left the flames to give way to his two best friends in the flesh and bone in front of him.

The assumption that ten years had passed seemed increasingly plausible in view of their physical changes.

Ron was still as tall, looked more adult, his face still as dotted with freckles, his features a little more marked than in his memories. His build, too, seemed much fleshier. He had visibly gained muscle.

As for Hermione, she had abandoned her teenage body for that of a beautiful, blossoming young woman.

They dusted quickly before turning to Harry, looking anxious.

“Harry... I think you can let go of Draco, he did nothing wrong...” Hermione said.

“What do you know?! Look around you, you don’t feel there’s a problem? ” he hissed, angry.

“No, Harry, there’s no problem I assure you, let him go please, it’s rather embarrassing to see him in this position.” Ron sighed, rubbing his sleeve for remove ashes.

Harry measured his friends for a moment before loosening his grip on Malfoy, pushing him and tipping him forward.

Malfoy caught up on his hands, arms outstretched. He stood on the floor, apparently expecting Harry to threaten him again.

Realizing that he didn’t do anything, he finally got up slowly joining his friends, Hermione embracing his arm in a friendly way.

All three sat down, Ron and Hermione on the sofa, Malfoy in an armchair next to the fireplace.

Harry stood watching them, his wand slightly pointed at Malfoy, always suspicious.

“How long has he been like this?” Ron asked to the Slytherin.

“I heard him wake up and as soon as he saw me he started threatening me,” Malfoy said in his dragging voice.

Harry struggled to stay calm, but his nerves seemed to be dropping at all times.

"Harry, did you say you were in your bed in Hogwarts when you fell asleep? Did you?" Hermione asked, looking focused.

Harry nodded silently, keeping his eyes on Malfoy.

This one looked at him calmly, his grey orbs were piercing, but no hint of animosity seemed to have settled there.

“He doesn’t remember anything apparently. He told me he was still in sixth year before he woke up here. He thinks I hex him a Confundus or something” he added to Harry’s best friends.

“Can you just not talk about me like I’m not there?” Harry groaned, annoyed.

“Sorry, mate, but for us it’s complicated too,” Ron replied in a comprehensive tone.

Harry turned his eyes to him, slightly raising his eyebrows, only now noticing his attire.

He and Hermione were dressed in assorted, lavishly decorated witch dresses. Hermione had tried to tame her hair to the best of her ability and Harry noticed that she had also put on light makeup.

“Where are you two going, dressed like that?” Harry grinned.

His friends glanced at each other before turning their eyes to him.

“Harry… We’re getting married today, have you forgotten too?” Hermione explained in a small voice.

Harry opened wide his eyes, almost letting go of his wand.

“You… you get married?! But … how long have you been together? When did it happen?” he asked, stunned.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a painful glance with Malfoy before taking a deep breath and answering.

“Since the end of the war, Harry…” Hermione blew, snapped Ron’s fingers.

Harry lowered his eyes to their tied hands, puzzled.

“The end of… The war is over? Did we… win?” he asked without being able to prevent a glimmer of hope from invading him.

His friends and Malfoy nodded.

Harry frowned, surprised to see Malfoy also approve.

Last he heard, as little as he suspected, this one was on the other side, next to Voldemort and his bloody father.

Harry was convinced that he was carrying the Dark Mark and intended to prove it to himself before he was projected here…

So, why did Malfoy think he had won too?

Harry stared at them once again, letting his gaze through the room, falling on a degree of Master of Potions framed on the wall, dated 2002.

“I don’t understand anything anymore…” he blew, falling into the second chair next to the fireplace, taking his head in his hands.

“What do you think?” Malfoy asked to Hermione, in a serious tone.

She frowned, visibly thoughtful, before answering.

“It seems like he was Obliviate, given his rather significant memory loss,” she said.

«It would seem, indeed» Malfoy nodded, dryly.

He gave Harry a brief glance before adding.

“The question is when... Last night, he remembered everything, so unless hex him an Obliviate in his sleep, I don’t see how he could forget everything.” He replied, frowning.

“He may have been cast earlier in the day before and may not have acted until much later in the evening,” Hermione said in a serious tone.

Malfoy raised a skeptic eyebrow.

“Is it possible?” he asked.

Hermione nodded in a serious look.

“Yes, there is an unusual way to cast a spell, but I read somewhere that you can attach a tempus spell that determines the exact time you want it to act.” she explained, tightening her grip on Ron’s hands.

Harry listened, his eyes fixed on his best friend, his hands on his temples, his wand sinking into the skin of his forehead.

“So… I would been Obliviate?” he asked

Hermione turned his painful gaze to him

“It’s a very high probability, yes,” she said, in a mournful tone.

“That would be the only logical explanation for not remembering anything,” Malfoy added.

Harry looked down to the ground, staring at it as if he wished to be deeply buried there.

«Ten years... ten years of my life gone up in smoke... » he blew, in a sob.

Harry felt his stomach contract with the idea that he had actually lost an insane number of moments of his short life.

How could he have imagined being there, in the middle of a living room that he had no memory of, alongside his best friends and _Malfoy_ with them when only a few hours ago, he had quietly fallen asleep in his bed in Hogwarts? A few hours ago, he was only 16 years old and in the middle of his sixth year…

His diaphragm tightened a little more and an unpleasant impression of burning his throat.

And say that his last memory was Malfoy’s point disappearing from the Marauder’s map, and that he was visibly an integral part of his life, even today…

Because it was true, Malfoy had always spent most of his time ruining his life and now he was going on… Even after ten fucking years, if it was true…

Harry leaned a little further forward, gripping his belly with his arms, feeling it contracting painfully, moving his chin forward.

An acid taste rose up into his throat, coming directly from his stomach, prompting him to rise quickly to expel it.

Harry seen from the corner of the eye Malfoy get close enough to grab him by the shoulders and lift him up. Unable to do anything to stop him, he allowed himself to be guided by him until what appeared to be a bathroom.

He fell heavily on his knees in front of the toilet bowl, still held by Malfoy, crouching behind him, feeling his throat burn while a warm liquid rose up.

Harry’s stomach poured into a powerful, uncontrollable stream. A cold sweat ran through his back, as he finished draining all the stress he had accumulated, with Malfoy’s hands embracing his shoulders, one of his thumbs gently caressing his scapula.

Harry shuddered at this touch, in a pronounced disgust even if the gesture remained pleasant. Coming from Malfoy it was not bearable. He tried to get away, but the Slytherin held him firmly.

"Shh... Calm down, it’s going to be okay," he said softly, tightening his fingers on his trembling arms.

Harry stood still for a moment, breathing with difficulty.

Then Malfoy got a little closer, a few strands of his hair tickling his neck, where he dropped a slight kiss from the tip of his lips.

“Stop that”, Harry hissed, jolting.

In a recoil, he lost the balance that tipped Malfoy in his fall.

Frightened, he tried to rise up to get as far away from Malfoy as possible, looking for his wand which he had dropped while he was throwing up and pointed it back at him, trembling.

His breathing was erratic, his hair sticking to his forehead. He was sweating, cold and Malfoy was standing there, on the floor, looking at him painfully.

Malfoy attempted a move in his direction but Harry held out his wand to prevent him from going further.

"Don’t come near!" he succeeded in articulating, a pasty taste in his mouth.

“Potter, you’re freezing to death, let me give you something to cover for you” Malfoy protested, severely.

"Tell me where it is" Harry retorted, his heart pounding against his chest, his breathing difficult to control.

“In the right closet” Malfoy pointing.

His wand still pointed at him, Harry, headed for the closet. He took out a bathrobe which he unfolded before beginning to put it on with difficulty.

Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You won’t achieve anything if you don’t let go of your wand,” he said.

“If you think I’m going to let you attack me without defending me, you are sadly mistaken,” Harry hissed, glaring at him.

“Don’t be silly, why would I stoop to that while your friends are in the next room?” Malfoy retorted, exasperated.

Harry gauged him for a moment, before slowly lowering his wand and putting on the bathrobe on his back, closing it with the belt.

He stretched his wand again to Malfoy, who gave him a grin.

"I thought I’d never be reduced to this with you again, after all these years..." he noticed, sadly.

Harry frowned. Malfoy seemed very affected by his gesture, as if he was disappointed to see him threaten him.

However, it had never been otherwise in Harry’s memories.

But the pain that he could read in the grey orbs was almost palpable. It almost hurt him so much that it seemed deep.

Harry blinked, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of listening to the man at his feet.

He looked like Malfoy but did not act like Malfoy, didn’t look at him with that despicable glance that he had always been destined for him.

_He never looked at me like that…_

This man seemed different, a better version of Malfoy, seeming worried for him, sweating love for Harry...

The picture of the nightstand came to his mind. What if it were true? If really ten years of his life had been taken from him? Ron and Hermione seemed to believe it, too, and Harry had no reason not to trust them.

Still, it was so hard to admit...

_How did this happen?_

Harry looked in his mind for a clue that might put him on the trail, but nothing came to him.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, behind the bathroom door.

"It’s ok, he’s all right," Malfoy replied with his dragging voice, beginning to rise.

The door opened slowly, revealing Hermione, a restless look stuck to her face.

“I think we’re going to have to postpone the ceremony…” she blew, disappointed.

Malfoy sighed, glaring sideways at Harry and then turned to her to embrace his arm gently.

“I’m really sorry…” he said, pouting.

Harry noticed that he really looked like one and he was even more taken aback.

Hermione nodded silently and turned to him.

“Harry, I’m going to warn Molly that the wedding has to be postponed while Draco takes you to St Mungo's to validate the theory that we are advancing…” she explained it, slowly.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not going to leave me alone with... _him_ ,” he said, showing Malfoy with his chin.

Hermione sighed, anchoring her sad eyes in his.

“Harry… Draco won’t do anything to you,” she said. “It’s no longer the one you knew in the days of Hogwarts,” she added, seeing Harry open his mouth to retort.

Malfoy remained silent, still looking at him with this glance so involved, so much pain and sorrow contained in the eyes.

“I don’t want to interrupt this wonderful moment, but I’ll let Kingsley know about your condition, Harry, maybe we’ll find some answers on our side. And I would really like to get this cleared up as quickly as possible…” Ron announced, scraping his throat through the door.

"You’re right, let’s hurry!" Malfoy nodded, seriously.

He then turned to Harry before adding.

“I’ll prepare you clothes and let you dress. Then we’ll go to St Mungo”

Harry prepared to retort once more but Hermione glaring at him, shaking his head, discouraging him from expressing any objection.

Harry sighed with spite and finally nodded from the chin before following them into the living room.

Malfoy took the direction of the bedroom while Ron and Hermione told him that everything was going to be fine and that we would find answers once the results of the Healers were recovered.

Once his friends leave by floo, not without a last hug from Hermione and a heavy gaze from Ron, Harry waited patiently for Malfoy’s return, again roaming the room, looking for other clues that might put him on the path to his situation.

There were some additional photos of him and his friends, and of course of Malfoy, on which he took great care not to linger, but apart from these, everything was perfectly tidy.

A prize, however, attracted his attention, placed just above the large library in the lounge. It looked strangely like the cups he saw in the bedroom when he woke up. According to the golden arabesques, it was almost obvious that it was a Quidditch prize.

Malfoy was obviously part of a team, or maybe _he_ was?

Malfoy didn’t take long to come back holding a small pile of carefully folded clothes that he handed to Harry, suspicious, for fear of being threatened again.

"You can change in the bathroom, I’m waiting for you here," he said, with his dragging voice.

Harry nodded and went back to the bathroom where he made sure to close the lock for privacy.

He walked into the room, putting his pile of clothes on the sink, raising his head to the mirror above him and froze immediately.

Harry passed one of his hands over his face, noticing that he too had changed. His jaw was slightly squarer, his glasses were well rectangular as he could see when he woke up, his hair had not really moved, still as unruly as before. Her scar was clearly visible under the few black strands that dotted his forehead, equal to itself, although a little paler than usual.

Harry took off his bathrobe, raising his eyebrows, detailing his totally different body from the one he had in mind before landing here. He had always been quite frail, a little less since his training from Quidditch to Hogwarts but it was not enough to really grow.

_It sounds like somebody else…_

There, he could clearly distinguish his finely drawn muscles, his shoulders much more square and his pectorals emerging slightly from his bust. He could even see the beginning of his abs, the bones of his V-shaped hips, pointing the way to his groin.

He was impressed by the appreciable aspect that his body had taken, gradually reducing the doubts about the situation that seemed manifestly quite well founded.

However, he had great difficulty believing that Malfoy could have changed his behavior towards him.

Malfoy was supposed to hate him, and his best friends never could stand him either. It seemed really hard to imagine that all these little people would get along, as if the past had never mattered.

As if their respective animosity had never existed…

Harry had a deep grudge against Malfoy, knowing all that he had learned in his sixth year that he had likely left prematurely without time to discover more.

It was terribly frustrating to come into a world where everything, including your friends, your ideas and your perception had abruptly changed…

Looking at his reflection, he wondered if like his physical appearance, his state of mind, had also evolved… About Malfoy, about the people around him, about politics, about sports and everything that made him what he was in his day.

At the time that was still his just a few hours ago…

Harry needed answers, desperately needed someone to comfort him and give him a solution.

Ron had mentioned Kingsley, Harry couldn’t see how his best friend would have enough weight to put him on the spot. Perhaps with the help of his father? Or perhaps it was also part of a novelty of his future life…

He shook his head, determined to get moving, avoiding wasting more time in lamenting and asking himself questions witch he wouldn’t find answers on his own and began to dress.

Once dressed, he couldn’t help noticing that the clothes had been carefully chosen.

Her dark grey t-shirt highlighted his arms, his bust and marked her waist.

His black trousers molded the muscles of his thighs, going down in a straight cut on the rest of his legs.

Malfoy really had a strong taste for physical appearance. Harry remembered how well he was showing off his body in Hogwarts, while he was content with the old clothes already worn and stretched by his cousin Dudley.

Harry had never had the desire to pay attention to this kind of detail about his own person, although very strongly aware that his physical appearance left something to be desired.

For this reason, he could not suppress a slight smile, detailing his reflection, having never seen himself elegantly dressed.

It was almost laughable to know that it was Malfoy who had chosen his outfit. Getting dressed by him was more than absurd.

After a last appreciative glance at his silhouette, he finally consented to turn around, taking good care to store his wand in the pocket of his pants.

He then passed in front of the toilet, flushing the toilet to clean up his mischief a few minutes before and unlocked the door before closing it in his back.

He arrived again in the small corridor that separated the living room on the left and the room in which he had woken up to his right.

Taking the direction of the living room, Harry found Malfoy without much surprise, sitting on one of the armchairs next to the fireplace.

He was leaning slightly to the side with his arm holding his head, his hand hiding the upper part of his face, which he slowly lifted when he heard him enter.

Malfoy gauged him up and down, lingering on his bust, in such a delicate way that it made Harry terribly uncomfortable.

The grey orbs met his green eyes and again, what Harry could read there was horribly bewildering, both sorrow, pain, envy and a strange sympathy shining within.

Harry had never seen Malfoy look at him like that. He squeezed, and swallowed before scraping his throat, turning away his eyes, feeling much too embarrassed to continue to challenge him.

“They look good on you,” Malfoy said.

Harry hardly turned his face towards him, frowning.

“Clothes… I had chosen them for you in the new shop on Diagon Alley» he added, a slight smile in the corner, a little sad.

Harry nodded quietly, not knowing what more to say.

He could not decently thank Malfoy for choosing these clothes, much less be grateful to him since they were pure enemies in his mind.

Malfoy did not wait for his answer and rose carefully to get closer to him.

Harry backed away, his hand squeezing tightly against the pocket where his wand was.

Malfoy froze, then sighed.

“Look, I understand that this is complicated for you, but it’s even more complicated for me too, so if you could just make it a little easier it would be greatly appreciated,” he said, between his teeth.

Harry wrinkled his eyes at him with contempt, before slowly pulling his hand out of his pants.

Malfoy followed his move and nodded.

He then get even closer, freezing Harry a little more as he reduced the gap between them.

“We have to touch each other to be able to Side-Along…” he recalled, in front of the questioning look that Harry was giving him.

In a very calculated move, Malfoy extended a hand towards his waist which he surrounded, pressing his fingers on his hip, his shoulder touching Harry’s, his face dangerously close to his own.

The warmth of Malfoy’s hand in the hollow of his kidneys, his subtle perfume embalming his nostrils, made him blink to focus more on the place where he wanted to land.

Harry suddenly realized that he had just learned Apparition, having succeeded in doing them after only a few courses with Mc Gonnagall, during the few months that elapsed from his sixth year.

He was, nevertheless happy that Malfoy allowed him to do so, too anxious that he would use it to his advantage to deceive him about where they were supposed to go.

_I have absolutely no trust in him…_

After visualizing the place he was keeping as a souvenir, he closed his eyes to begin his magic, his flow running through his body with slight tingling, Malfoy’s fingers sinking deeper into his t-shirt.

He felt sucked in, his internal organs completely overturned. After the unpleasant familiar impression, they found themselves in front of the window where the naked dummies, in a pitiful state, were waiting for them.

Once he had caught his breath, the urge to throw up consumed inside his stomach, he detached himself from Malfoy and get closer to the building.

Malfoy overtook him, heading to the dummies whose wide open plastic eyes looked more than repulsive.

He didn’t converse with it however and passed directly the magical field of the showcase, leaving him behind.

His head appeared again after a few seconds, intimating him to follow him, which Harry did, not without frowning.

He arrived in the hall, Malfoy beside him, silently asking him to follow him.

“But how did you manage to get in without talking to the dummies?” Harry asked, puzzled.

Walking with determination, surpassing the reception and moving through the various corridors of the building, Malfoy had a grin before answering him.

“I work here” he explained without further details about his function and where they were headed.

Harry opened his mouth to ask what kind of work he was doing before raising his eyebrows when the answer came, evident in his mind.

_Of course…_

“The degree of Master of potions…” he blew for himself, remembering the scroll framed on the wall of the living room.

Malfoy nodded silently, taking a corridor to the left until they arrived in front of an elevator where they waited after pressing the call button.

Once inside, they went up to the fourth floor of treatment of spell damage services as Harry had expected for having been there in his fifth year.

However, he did not think he would ever return, let alone be admitted as a patient.

When the elevator stopped, they get out to the indicated floor, moving closer to the small reception post that stood in the middle of the central aisle.

Harry recognized the Janus Thickey Ward where many witches had been suffering from incurable spells for several years.

He had a thought for Lockhart, and Neville’s unfortunate parents, while Malfoy was talking with the hostess, before turning to point him.

The old woman stared at him with round eyes before nodding and visibly warning her superiors.

"Andrea will see you, we’ll wait for her wisely here," Malfoy said to him, with his dragging voice before showing two chairs on the side and settling in.

Harry sat in turn, indisputably hampered by the proximity of Malfoy’s body too closer for his taste.

He shifted the chair a few inches away from the Slytherin, which made a slight grin before playing with the cufflinks of his shirt.

Harry blinked, only now noticing that Malfoy had not taken the time to change, having simply removed the jacket from his suit.

He turned away Malfoy’s eyes, leaning on his thighs, joining his hands. Harry lowered his head, staring at the ground, sighing and then closing his eyes.

_What the hell am I doing here…?_

Harry repeat over and over again the past few hours, reminding what he had learned from the moment he woke up.

How, from his cozy bed to Hogwarts he had landed in this unknown reality of which he had no memories, only the few photos and portraits he had vaguely glimpsed in the room, his room visibly shared with… _Malfoy_?

Harry repressed a pout of disgust at the thought of being emotionally attached to him. Not that the fact that he was a man was disturbing, although it was still quite surprising, but the mere fact that it was Draco Malfoy, his enemy since his eleven years after Voldemort, was more than terrifying.

When did they get so close that they ended up having some kind of relationship? How they came to live together and visibly felt this kind of love, which Harry saw through Malfoy’s grey eyes when he looked at him.

Harry shuddered reminding Malfoy’s hands resting on his shoulders as he throw up, to the electrifying sensation that had passed through his body when the Malfoy’s lips had grazed him.

The sweet perfume he had smelled when Malfoy got close to stick to him before they Side-Along.

Harry had never had any special desire for Malfoy, nor any attraction to his looks. Much less about his personality.

Malfoy was by far the last person Harry imagined dating in the near future.

That’s why it was unthinkable to be sitting next to him today, several years after completing his schooling.

Still, everyone seemed to think it was normal, as if it were the very evidence that his… lover, was a man and a perfect asshole as a bonus.

What could have happened to be reduced to that end?

_How could I date a guy like him… with Malfoy for fuck’s sake?!_

He had to clear all this up or he would have a horribly painful headache. He’d hold that fucking ferret and his best friends to account once the meeting was over.

Harry was still trying to understand the sad fate of this fatality when a small voice forced him to open his eyes and raise his head.

A pretty young woman stood before him, a little smile adorning her lips made of rose. His long brown hair cascaded down from curls on his shoulders, his hazel eyes gently looked at him, his long lashes touching almost the top of his eyelids.

She must have been barely in her thirties in view of her barely marked fine features, her smooth skin texture, her freckles dotting her nose and cheekbones.

Harry blinked for a moment before rising completely to his chair.

“Hello Mr. Potter, I’m Andrea Page, the Healer’s Chief of the treatment of spell damage services. Please follow me” she announced, pointing the corridor to her right.

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who nodded, confirming that he could go. Harry stood up, stalking the young woman, before stopping and turning to see that Malfoy wasn’t following them.

Harry frowned, getting ready to ask him what the hell he was doing, but Malfoy was faster.

“I’m not allowed to follow you…” he explained.

Seeing that Harry wasn’t moving any more, he sighed, before adding.

"Potter, you can go, I’ll still be here when you get back," he added in his dragging voice.

Harry wrinkled his eyes, weighing the pros and cons before turning his heels in the direction shown by the Healer without an answer for Malfoy.

At the end of the hall, she erased herself to let him enter his office, before going through the door in turn and closing it behind his back.

She pointed him to a chair to sit on and sat down in the armchair in front of him, joining her hands on her desk.

“Mr. Malfoy quickly told me about your long-term memory problem, do you confirm what he said?” She asked in a serious tone.

Harry nodded, not knowing what to add.

“All right, what’s the last thing you remember exactly?” she added, intrigued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to read :)
> 
> Kisses,
> 
> Zouille


	2. Split Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paring : HPDM
> 
> Rating : M
> 
> Disclamer : all rights to JK Rowling

_How did we get to this point…?_

That’s what he’s been going over and over since this morning, after joining Harry he heard waking up in their bed, after seeing him look at him with so much contempt and fear…

As if everything had returned to the way it was before…As if nothing had ever changed between them…

Leaning against the chair of the waiting room, Draco closed his eyes, vainly trying to keep calm, despite the horrible panic that threatened to devour his entrails.

Like all good self-respecting Malfoy, he didn’t let on. Like any good member of his family, he put his cold, impassive mask on his face to better hide the upsetting emotions that were impeding his heart and mind.

_“But…For fuck’s sake, Malfoy, we hate each other, you hate me”_

Harry’s words resounded hard in his head, his hands resting on his thighs, squeezing a little more his black pants, sticking his nails into the garment.

Draco swallowed with difficulty, thinking back to the hateful and disgusting glances that Harry had constantly put on him, hurting him a little more every time he met his eyes.

His heart beat strongly in his chest at the thought that the man he loved was no longer the one with whom he had shared all these years. Or rather, he was, but had lost everything that attracted them to what they had built together.

Harry didn’t remember who Draco had become…

All he remembered was a troubled teenager looking for a place in the middle of the war. A miserable coward fleeing his responsibilities, daring not to face his family, for fear of suffering more than regrettable consequences.

Harry had lost the years when he got to know him, appreciate him, and in the end, just love him…

Draco remembered perfectly the day when all their hatred had fallen, to give way to desire. That feeling had grown and developed, and none of them saw it coming…

It was a long time, not without problems, but they had held out, they had resisted and now Harry was sharing his life, an integral part of his family.

Harry was almost all he had left, having almost disowned his owns…

After the war, Draco had put an end to all the beliefs that his ancestors and parents had instilled to him, conditioning his spirit and his desires for his “well-being” and that of his family.

Everything had been calculated from birth, he knew it… Draco had been brought up to rule and bribe his neighbor as his father had striven to do before him, making him proud of him.

Draco had always wanted to follow in the footsteps of his sire, placing him on a pedestal he didn’t deserve.

What at the time made him dream, now kept him awake every night when he had a nightmare…

Harry had instilled a goodness in him that he never thought he would have. Opened a door in his heart that he had no idea existed. Harry had known to make live the cold and closed being that Draco had been at a time in his life, filling it and completing it as he imagined himself to see it.

And now… it was all over…

_I lost him…_

Draco kept his eyes resolutely closed, feeling the ball sticking in his stomach up to his throat, the pain come pecking his eyelids to force them to tremble. He bit his lower lip to prevent all the pain he had been trying to hide for a few hours…

He wasn’t supposed to cry, he couldn’t, when Harry could be back any minute.

Draco loosened his grip on his pants to drive his nails straight into the flesh of his palms, looking for a way to focus on something other than his inner sickness.

All the muscles in his body contracted to focus more on controlling his resentment.

_Breathe…_

He thought those days were over, seeing Harry looks down on him had upset him more than he wanted.

He had long believed that their relationship was doomed to failure, unnatural and unimaginable. Now, he no longer saw his life without him.

And now they’re taking him back…

_It’s just a nightmare, you’ll wake up and Harry will be… Harry again…_

Draco took a deep breath when he heard the door squeak at the end of the hall. He blinked and scraped his throat, while doing what he could to regain a totally impassive face.

His trademark well in place, nevertheless hoping that it was not too cracked, he consented to turn vaguely towards the creaking, seeing two silhouettes approaching.

Harry stood in front of him with an empty gaze.

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow, before turning his eyes on Andrea who gave him a slight contrite smile.

“Well, Mr Potter, you can go home. As agreed, we will be expecting you tomorrow for your appointment with your wizard therapist. Maybe he’ll be able to fix some damage…”

Draco frowned, getting ready to retaliate but Harry was faster than him and turned his head to Page to thank her.

Once the healer left, he remained for a few moments to watch her return to her office before turning to Draco.

"We’re leaving" he said, without further explanation, heading for the elevator.

Draco rose quickly, catching up with him, following the rhythm of his steps.

“Potter, wait! What did Andrea tell you? Did she find out what happened to you? ” he asked him, walking by his side.

Harry looked in front of him, pressing the call button without giving him a single fucking gaze.

“Just like you said” he agreed to answer between his teeth, rushing into the elevator shaft, always without looking at him.

Draco followed him hurriedly, facing the doors that closed. He glanced at him, but quickly turned away his eyes, hiding as he could, the beginning of a panic attack.

His breath suddenly short, he hardly exhaled.

"Memory Charm?" he asked in a breath, still hoping that this would not be the case.

Harry’s jaw muscles contracted as he nodded dry.

Draco swallowed with difficulty, nodding silently in turn, turning away his eyes, suddenly unable to face Harry, to face reality…

_Fuck, no…_

“Is it reversible?” he asked, a faint hope contained in his voice, as he stared at the cage doors still closed, as the elevator going down.

Harry sighed beside him, but did not answer.

A cold sweat ran down Draco’s back, his patience crumbling as the seconds decayed.

“Har… Potter?” he asked as firmly as his voice allowed him to.

Harry sighed again louder before answering him.

“She’s not sure. Maybe… If we find who did this to me” he mumbled, annoyed.

A renewed hope filled Draco’s heart with these words and he could not prevent a slight grin, which he quickly swept before nodding.

_Let it be true…_

The doors opened and Harry melted head first between them, walking quickly until the exit, Draco following him.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, slow down!” he hissed, annoyed by his behavior, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He groaned, coming out of his grip, always walking towards the great door leading to central London.

“And where exactly are you going?” Draco asked.

Once out, Harry finally froze, turning to him, and looking down on him.

Draco did his best not to be offended, but a pain squeezed his stomach in the face of all this contempt.

“Take us to your place, I have to talk to Ron and Hermione,” he said.

Draco noticed that Harry had not pulled out his wand when he asked him that. He just stood there, looking at him, obviously expecting him to obey.

“All right, I’m taking you to _our_ place, so you can tell everything that Andrea told you and I intend to be part of the conversation,” he retorted.

Harry wrinkled his eyes but simply glared at him and didn’t fight back.

Draco took the opportunity to get closer, carefully reaching his arm to put it on his lower back, feeling him tense under fingers.

He had all the trouble in the world not to hug him strongly and stick his nose in his black hair to breathe his smell, content himself to bring him slightly closer to Side-Along without any problems.

Back in the living room of their home, he let go of Harry who pushed him vehemently before heading for the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder in the process.

“The Burrow” he announced distinctly, before throwing the powder into the hearth.

A few seconds passed before Hermione’s face appeared in the midst of the green flames.

“Harry, you’re home! So tell me what the healers told you.” She exclaimed, visibly as eager as he was to learn more about the mystery that lay around him.

“She confirmed everything you thought. The Obliviate, the Tempus, so that he only acts at one time of the day…” he started. He closed his eyes for a moment while sighing. “She also told me that I lived well _here_ …” He ends up, with difficulty between his teeth.

Hermione pouted.

Draco watched the scene, arms folded against his bust, staring at Harry with his face closed, unable to stop the frenzied beating of his heart against his chest. Striving to keep an impassive face to the disgust he had taken to complete his sentence.

“Did she talk about a way around the spell?” Hermione asked, full of hope.

Harry nodded quietly before answering.

“Yes… But only if we find the asshole who cast it at me…Might as well say it’s a losing battle…” he blew, of spite.

“Not necessarily, Harry. Ron has already warned his colleagues, he’s with them now, and they’re tracing yesterday to understand how it could have happened” She was quick to explain, full of good will.

“I thought Ron went to warn Kingsley?” Harry frowned.

Hermione raised her eyebrows before speaking again.

“Oh yes... That’s right, you also forgot… Ron and Kingsley work together Harry, he’s part of the Auror’s brigade” she said, with a smile.

Harry opened wide his eyes, stunned.

“Ron is an Auror? So… I’m an Auror too, right? That’s what we both wanted to do, we took the same courses to get there in sixth year!” he reminded.

“No Harry… You didn’t become Auror on your side” Hermione added, in a soft voice.

Harry frowned.

«What do you mean? That’s what I wanted to do, that’s what I said I _would_ do! » He took offence, surprised.

“Yeah, but you changed your mind at the last moment, after the war was over,” she explained.

“So what am I?” he asked, puzzled.

“You’re a Seeker in the Montrose Magpies team” Draco announced, in a dragging voice.

Harry froze, raised his eyebrows high, and then lowered them, his eyes moving from left to right seeming to be looking for something. Then, Draco saw him turn his head towards one of the trophies, at the top of the library and linger on for a moment.

Harry finally lowered his head and turned his attention to Hermione, without a look at him.

“I really can’t do anything to help?” he sighed.

Hermione gave him a contrite smile before answering him.

“Sorry, Harry, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t do much…”

“So what? I’ll stay there? With _him_? ” Harry hissed, turning his head sharply in his direction.

Draco felt his heart tighten before the gaze filled with hatred and disgust against him but showed nothing of it, content to challenge the green eyes of his lover.

“Harry… You live here and Draco will do nothing to you I have already told you…” made Hermione’s bruised voice, glaring at him with sorrow.

“Let it go, Hermione. I understand his reaction, if I were in his place I would react the same way” he replied, in a deep tone.

“Except _you’re not_ , so keep your thoughts to yourself!” Harry hissed.

Draco squeezed his teeth before he retaliated.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know exactly what the 16-year-old-Potter thinks of me, because I thought exactly the same about you then.” He jeered, sticking his eyes in Harry’s green.

This one had a little bitter grin before getting up to face him.

“Oh yeah? And how can you be so sure of that, Malfoy?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Draco sighed, surreptitiously closing his eyes, quickly reopening them to anchor them painfully in the piercing green ones of Harry.

“Just because you told me and in talking to you, I realized that I had the same resentment towards you,” he explained.

“Harry, Draco, this is a really bad time to argue. I know this is complicated for you, Harry, but you can trust Draco, and either way, you don’t have the choice until we know more about the identity of the man who hex you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take care of finishing packing up the wedding decorations” she ended up.

The face of Hermione disappeared in the hearth of the fireplace without either of them being able to hold it.

Harry, who had quickly turned his head towards her, visibly intending to retaliate, sighed before glared at him.

“We’re not so different that you don’t seem to think so, you know…We are much more alike than you think…” Draco added, in a dragging voice.

Harry had a bitter grin before wrinkling his eyes too green in his direction.

“That, you see, I doubt…I refuse to be associated with someone as treacherous as you!” He jeered, with disgust.

“It’s unfortunate indeed, but as you can see, we live under the same roof, so unless we act like adults, we’re not going to get anywhere except for tearing each other up” Draco sighted, putting his hands in his pants pockets.

Harry clenched his fists, his jaw clenched, a fury presumably contained in his voice when he spoke.

“I never wanted all this…I never wanted to be with you! I don’t even see how I could get close to you at a moment in my life!” He spit, more for himself.

Draco staggered under the blow, feeling his heart crumble after Harry’s painful words.

“Well, sorry, but that’s exactly what happened,” he replied, in his dragging voice, hiding his heavy pain.

Harry grabbed his hair between his fingers, squeezed it hard, seeming like he was about to lose his mind.

“Fuck, Malfoy! Do you realize that I lost ten years of memories?! Ten fucking years of my life! I land here, my best friends get married, I did not become Auror as I had promised myself and I am taught that I live with my second worst enemy?! Can’t you see how laughable this situation is?!” He shouted, making great movements of his arms.

Draco gauged him for a moment before looking away at one of the pictures of the living room, placed on a side table, showing them both side-by-side, smiling.

“Of course I see Potter…I feel it too… 'Cause if you don’t remember anything, I do, and I’m going to have to deal with it” he said, hoping the sound of his voice didn’t shake.

It seemed to calm Harry who bowed his shoulders to look at him as he frowned.

A heavy silence settled between them, while Draco had not detached his eyes from photography, a bitter smile drawing on his lips. He glanced at Harry, noticing that he had also laid his eyes on the frame.

They remained thus for a moment, totally silent, enjoying the calm after the storm, the crackling of the fire and the noise of the logs burning in the fireplace.

Then Harry’s voice resounded in the room, in an almost imperceptible breath.

“How?” He asked staring at the witch photo.

“How what?” Draco added, raising an eyebrow.

Harry passed a hand through his dark hair, ruffling them a little more, visibly embarrassed by what he was about to ask.

“How did we… how did it happen?” he added, showing the picture from the chin, showing them happy and accomplices.

Draco fixed for a moment the frame, the powerful memories in his mind, the moments shared with Harry permeating and overwhelming his heart to know that he was now the only one to remember it…

If he had not been at all in control of himself, he could have cried. Abandoning himself in front of _the Savior_ , his lover’s half… But swallowing his tears, which he felt rising in his throat, he took a deep breath, surreptitiously closing his eyes, slowly reopening them, courageously facing the situation.

“At the end of the war, many of us have gone back to our last year, including you and your friends. We were… I don’t know what term to use… Injured? Bruised? By the events and all the complications that this had engendered” Draco began, moving slightly closer to the frame and laying a hand on it.

“And one night, you went up to the Astronomy Tower when I was already there. I used to go there to refocus myself, and it’s the first time I’ve seen you there. You didn’t say anything, you just stood there, looking at the landscape, and I enjoyed the silence between us. No sharp remarks, no spells cast by anger, just two confused souls seeking calm” He added, taking the picture in his hand, a slight smile in the corner on his lips. “And then it went on. Another night, this time, you were there before me and you started the conversation”

Harry was always silent in front of him. Draco could see from the corner of his eye that he had not moved, visibly focused on his story. Then he went on.

“After that, what happened, I still don’t understand it today. I think we were really devastated by everything we had gone through. You, for destroying the greatest Dark Lord of all time and me for making the wrong choices” he added, in a deep voice.

“Then, everything was done naturally and it became obvious over time. I won’t hide the fact that our respective friends didn’t get along right away, as you can imagine, or even approve of our relationship, but we didn’t care what they thought, because we had finally learned to breathe… We were… alive…” Draco blew, his thumb delicately caressing the photograph.

Then, Draco raised his head, feeling the tears too long repressed about to sink down his cheeks. He scraped his throat and rested the frame before displaying a small smile, anchoring his shiny grey eyes in those of his lover.

“But finally I think you’re right, the treacherous being that I was must surely pay the price today, because now, even that aspect, I no longer have the right.” He ends up, sighing.

Harry was staring at him, frowning, with the look of someone trying to untangle what he has just assimilated.

Then after what seemed like an eternity, he sat on the sofa, his elbows on his thighs, his hands rising up along his face. He looked exhausted, overwhelmed by all the information.

“I think I still have a lot to learn…” he whispered, in his hands.

“Undoubtedly” Draco nodded, still standing.

Harry remained frozen in his position, blinking from time to time, looked completely wiped out.

“Get some rest, I’ll make some tea” Draco ended up saying, quietly heading to the kitchen.

Harry’s voice resounded behind his back, piercing and full of resentment.

“Anyway, I’m stuck here…so I don’t really have a choice, do I?” he jeered.

Draco who had stopped, sighed softly, turning heels in his direction.

Harry had shifted slightly, his face turned to the side.

“You’re not stuck here, you _live_ here,” Draco said, trying to contain his exasperation.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want…If you all want to point that out so badly” Harry grinned.

“I think the nuance is important, indeed” Draco calmly replied, in a hard voice.

“Well, for me it is not, I have no memory of having moved in with you, with anyone else for that matter! I never even considered the idea of being able to do it … I was too busy surviving to think about it” he said, scornfully.

Draco swallowed hard at these scathing remarks.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, your role in the war is over” he tried to comfort him.

Harry turned around completely this time, looking him in the eye.

“Great… Now I just have a fucking ten-year hole in my face and I’m living with a fucking Death Eater! Yeah, really nothing to worry about” he shouted.

“I’m not a Death Eater, Potter, and regarding your memory loss, Ron and the Aurors are going to do everything they can to get you out of there, so _please_ try to calm down and rest” Draco sighed, deprived.

“But how can I calm down?! Fuck, no, I can’t take this crap anymore, I need some fresh air, I’m going to see Ron, whatever Hermione says, I can probably help them." Harry answered as he rose, heading for the exit.

“Potter…” Draco started, moving to prevent him.

Harry skillfully avoided him and ran to the front door.

“Harry, stay here!” Draco shouted, chasing him.

Harry startled before turning around, glaring at him.

“I thought I told you not to call me like that anymore, _Malfoy_?!” he spit, wickedly.

Draco just a few meters away, taking advantage to shift, standing straight, blocking his access.

Harry wrinkled his eyes and clenched his fists along his body.

"Get out of my way!" he shouted.

“No” Draco replied, with a firm voice.

Harry’s fury could be felt from miles away, as his magic spread between the walls, sending tingling tickles to Draco’s skin.

“For fuck’s sake, Malfoy! Get the hell out of the way or I …” he started, taking a step forward.

“Or you what? Hex me? It might be complicated without your wand” Draco grinned.

Panicked, Harry opened wide his eyes, groping his pockets, looking for his wand. He froze when he saw Draco pull it out of the pocket of his pants, twisting it between his fingers.

“Wha- When did you take it from me?” he asked, stunned.

“When we Side-Along” Draco simply answered, tapping the wand in the palm of his hand.

"Give me back now, you fucking ferret!" Harry spit, taking a step towards him.

“Out of question! You're too upset for me to take the risk of giving it back to you” Draco explained, calmly.

“Fuck you, Malfoy! Give me back my wand!” Harry shouted, his anger sizzling the lights in the hallway.

“No” Draco repeated firmly, tightening the wand between his fingers.

Everything happened very quickly, Harry made a quick move but Draco had seen it coming. His impulsivity is no longer a secret to him, after so many years spent around him.

“Petrificus totalus” he strike as Harry rushed towards him.

Harry’s body completely froze, falling heavily to the ground in a dull sound.

Draco slowly drew closer to his still figure, stooping to his height to contemplate it. He released a strand of black hair from his lover’s forehead, thus revealing the scar in the form of a flash and freed the sparkling green eyes that made him capsize so much.

“I’m sorry to get to this, and believe me when I tell you it hurts me, but I have no choice…You really need to calm down, Har… Potter” he blew.

One knee down, he straightened out the rectangular glasses on Harry’s nose.

“If I let you go, Hermione will come after me for sure. So, _please_ get over yourself… Until we hear from Ron and then we’ll do whatever you want” he begged, swallowing painfully.

Draco’s fingers gently grazed Harry’s cheek, delicately putting some hair behind his ear, before reluctantly moving away to rest on his knee.

“Blink twice if you promise not to try to escape” he said, firmly.

Harry, still motionless, didn’t move. Then, after a few seconds, consented to blink his eyelids in a calculated slowness.

Draco nodded silently, then rose from all his height, pointing his wand at the body at his feet and after a brief moment freed him.

Harry had a little jolt when the spell reached him.

Blinking, he straightened himself out slowly before jumping on Draco and pinning him against the corridor wall.

Draco made a small strangled sound, when Harry’s arm passed under his chin, pressing his throat, thus preventing him from speaking. Harry’s face was only a few inches from his, his eyes filled with a furious rage against him that he could feel electrifying all the senses of his being.

His breathing became blocked in his lungs, as Harry slowly moved closer to him, his back sticking a little more against the wall when he pressed his arm more firmly against his shoulders.

He could feel Harry’s warm breath caressing his face, closing his eyelids in spite of him, sniffing his fresh and delicate breath.

The proximity of this hot and powerful body, which he knew only too well now, caused him to lose all will to measure up to him. His heart pounding, pounding strongly against his chest, made him sag his shoulders, slowly opening his eyelids to give him a blurred and resigned gaze.

He saw Harry swallow, then freeze, eyes suddenly wide open, a sharp panic gripping them.

Draco raised his eyebrows in turn, noticing the sudden change in Harry’s glance when something hard pulsed against his thigh.

Still shocked, he did not react immediately, but Harry retreated sharply, seeming totally disturbed by his growing desire. His face was pale and he gasped, while his whole body was filled with tremors.

“No… How can I…” he blew, putting a trembling hand through his hair, pulling them heavily.

Draco, swallowing with difficulty, always leaning against the wall, staring at him.

Then, he lifted the wand that he always held in his left hand, making him understand not to challenge him again.

Black anger shone in Harry’s eyes, totally darkening them.

Visibly abandoning his fear of the desire he had felt against him a few moments earlier, he set out towards the bedroom, slamming the door in a thud behind his back.

Draco, surreptitiously closed his eyes to the sound that resonated between the walls, then immediately reopened them, his heart bursting in his chest.

With a short breath, he let himself slide against the wall, bringing his trembling hands to his temples, the wand still anchored in one of them.

Harry always seemed attracted to him.

_No…_

Not this Harry…

 _His_ Harry.

That of today…

Despite his forgotten memories, the feelings of the present-Harry seemed to have resisted.

Draco’s heart pounded too hard in his chest, his erratic breath, passing through the barriers of his lips as he gathered the last information of their sudden altercation.

Did that mean his Harry still wanted him? Even as the 16-year-old was stuck in his mind? The Harry’s body was visibly attracted to his own.

Draco closed his eyes, feeling his impassive mask break.

The dissatisfaction that he felt for a few hours now, not to touch him as he would like, not to kiss him as he was dying to, to take undeniably upon himself not to rush him, not to scare him away…

Endure his hateful gazes that he had ended up forgetting, locking in his wounded teenage spirit eight years ago now.

The constant urge to touch him, to hold him to calm him down, to tell him that he was there, to comfort him…

It was even harder to ignore, knowing that he was moving away from him, having lost his support for years… He was the one who gave up everything to Harry.

Because he had trusted him, he had followed him… Because he had faith in him, out of love for him…

Draco pressed his hands against his skull, grabbing silky handles of hair in the process.

A groan of pain and frustration escaped from his closed mouth, his jaw contracted, his teeth unquestionably clenched.

He thought he was done with all this “enemy” bullshit, Potter and Malfoy, Gryffindor and Slytherin…

Years they had swept everything away, years they were just Harry and Draco, and now everything was going up in flames…

A dreadful pain pierced his heart, a picture of Harry smiling at him, unsettling little by little under his eyelids, his soft and loving gaze became more blurred as he sought him…

Draco blinked, feeling them become damp, he sniffed and passed a hand on his face and scraped his throat before recovering.

_Breathe…_

He had to calm down too… He shouldn’t have been so weak in front of Harry. Out of respect for him, for everything he stood for, he had to stay strong. Although he was never very brave, working with Harry, he had learned to make some effort.

He got up slowly, his legs still shaking, barely supporting him. Once he had properly done his hair, smoothed his clothes and took a deep breath, he went to the kitchen to make tea.

He stopped just in time, looking at the wand he always held in his hands. He stowed it in a pocket of his pants and pulled out his own to cast a protective spell on the front door and toward the fireplace, in case Harry was again tempted to fail him.

Once in the kitchen, he lit the fire with his wand on the stove, hovered a kettle under the tap of water which he filled, and placed it with a wand motion on the flames.

Draco made another wrist move, opening a closet door, flying an assortment of tea cups and a beautifully decorated teapot.

He waited patiently for the water to warm up, leaning on a cupboard in the kitchen, his fingers on the edge of the work surface.

He stared at the void, reminding the latest events.

Harry hated him again, that was true. The memories of the teenage Harry had taken possession of his mind at the expense of his current adult body. He had had a more than obvious reaction against Draco’s thigh. A gesture he never thought possible, given the situation.

But then maybe everything wasn’t lost? Maybe there was hope?

Maybe Harry would be… _him_ again?

The weak whistling of the kettle resounded in the room, while yesterday’s day came to his mind.

A slight smile was born on his lips as he remembered the past moments of the day before.

He and Harry had gone on Diagon Alley to get some last-minute gifts to their now common friends for their wedding that should have happened today.

He remembered being dragged by Harry into a shop far too silly to his liking, pink and white all over the shelves, frames and hearts swirling on the ceiling.

Draco had winced when he had passed the threshold of the door, standing in front, without daring to come any closer. Harry had to pull him by the arm to force him back in.

Each time Harry had shown him an idea, Draco had mimicked with his fingers the immediate urge to throw up all of his guts on the floor, because the objects and decoration were so disgusting.

Harry had laughed, but insisted on taking at least one trinket to please Molly. So, Draco had finally gave in and agreed to choose with him.

Later, they had gone for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron, then went home to drop off the presents and to try on their suits, both chosen and bought by Draco.

He had asked Harry to dress first, being the groom’s witness, his own being able to wait, but Harry had insisted on dressing at the same time and seeing the result.

While Draco had begun to change, removing the clothes he was wearing, his suit carefully hung on a hanger in the room, Harry had stuck to him in his back, hugging him around the waist and kissing him on the neck.

A shiver passed through his body in memory of his lips resting on his skin, remembering the same effect that they had lavished at that moment.

Draco had mumbled that it would be difficult to continue if Harry did not let him use his arms. But Harry had smiled at his neck, turning him abruptly, biting his lower lip, admitting to him that he had other plans for the evening.

And Draco had given up the idea of trying on his suit, and he following Harry to their bed, devouring his lips avidly, lying on the sheets, Harry just above him. Draco squeezed his fingers a little tighter on the edge of the kitchen closet, remembering Harry’s lips eating his neck, his warm breath burning his skin. His jet black hair, tickling his chest, making him shiver, his heady perfume filling his nose.

The whistling of the kettle becoming more strident, Draco closed his eyes, remembering the sensation of Harry’s wet mouth running through his body, his tongue tracing his muscles, going down dangerously to his belly, biting his belly button.

A slight moan escaped from his lips, as he bit one. His crotch was beginning to contract, his dick getting bigger, making him squirm with embarrassment.

Under his eyelids, Harry had slowly raised his head, his green eyes sparkling to meet his own, a violent desire rooted in them. Then Harry had lowered his head again and Draco had felt his fingers gripping his boxers, dropping the last garment hiding his groin. Harry’s lips had immediately landed on his erect sex, sprinkled with small kisses along his cock, ripping out sighs of pleasure.

His breathing was difficult to control, the whistling throughout the room filling his ears, cutting him off from the rest of the world, a moment alone with his desires and thoughts.

And Harry’s tongue had licked him all along, tickling the tip of his cock.

Draco had lowered his head, to admire his lover, to make him lose his mind, at the stroke of a well-placed wrist, performing pronounced back and forth while his lips covered the top of his cock, totally swallowing him.

Draco swallowed hardly, panting in spite of him to the memory of Harry’s mouth moving on his cock begging him to continue.

“Harry, Draco?” a distant voice made in a room of the house.

In a startle, Draco opened his eyes, holding his breath in his lungs, recognizing Ron’s voice through the sound of the kettle on the fire.

"Yes, here we are, Ron, in the kitchen, I’m coming!" he shouted as he came to his senses.

He quickly put out the fire and tipped the water from the kettle into the teapot with his wand before returning to the living room in a hurry.

Harry was already there, sitting on the couch, Ron standing by his side.

“Hermione told me what the healer said, so I was able to go a little further in my search to try and find the bastard who did this to you, Harry.” Ron explained, before he sat down on the sofa.

"So what?" Harry asked, rising up on the back of the sofa, his bust going forward with apprehension.

“Well, Kingsley hadn’t mentioned it to me before, because he wasn’t quite sure yet and to avoid worrying about anything if it wasn’t proven. But apparently he discovered a clan of followers of black magic in the center of London” Ron began, concentrating.

“What’s that got to do with me?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Precisely, everything. They would be the sons of Death Eaters who weren’t suspected when they were dead or captured” Ron added, in a deep voice.

“But not all the Death Eaters have been eradicated by the time?” Harry replied, starting to get angry.

“Yeah, normally… Well, we thought so, but obviously we don’t anymore”, Ron sighed.

_Again them…_

“What the fuck are we doing here then? We have to go find them!” yelled at Harry, rising quickly, fists clenched along his body.

“Hey, Calm down mate! You’re not going to do any of this other than stay here until we figure out where their stash is and we can get one of them to talk” Ron said, with a hand in front of him, to get him out of the way.

“Cause you honestly believe that I’m going to sit here and do nothing while you go and smash some Death Eaters?” Harry spit out, obviously out of him.

"Yeah, absolutely," Ron simply replied, staring at his best friend.

Harry blinked, looking stunned before grinned.

“And I can know what makes you believe that exactly?” he replied, in a sarcastic tone.

“First of all, because you’re not an Auror, Harry, so you don’t have to get involved in investigations and you’re the one who was attacked, so there’s no way you’re going head down until we know more” Ron said, calmly.

Draco could see Harry boiling with anger and frustration at staying here while individuals still wanted his life.

“For fuck’s sake Ron, do you realize what you’re saying?! How can you believe for a moment that I’m going to wait for you to find the assholes who made me forget everything without helping you find them?” He shouted, against his friend.

“Because it is. I know you, Harry, you are the first to go to the front without worrying about your safety, but things have changed. _You_ have changed! You’re 26 now, you have a full life and you’ve decided not to interfere with these cases when you were 18, so just let the pros do their job now, all right?” Ron replied, in a firm tone.

“But I don’t fucking remember! This morning again I was convinced to want to become Auror, I was studying to spend the N.E.W.Ts with you! How could I change my mind after the fact?” Harry shouted, causing the lights to flicker around him.

“You didn’t want to fight anymore. Too much blood was spilled in the final battle, many of our friends did not survive, and others were seriously wounded and still bear scars today. You just wanted to change your life…” Draco calmly explained, still standing in the middle of the living room.

Harry briefly turned his head towards him, with a sarcastic smile on his lips.

“Yes, obviously that’s what I’m seeing,” he hissed, before turning his attention to Ron.

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes at such contempt.

“So what do we do?” Harry asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

"You, nothing. You carry on with your life and I find the bastards who want to kill you," Ron replied, with a smirk.

Harry made a slight grin before lowering his eyes and shaking his head, immediately raising it to look at his best friend.

"I suppose that whatever I say you'll leave me no choice?" He replied, in a resigned tone.

"Exactly" Ron replied, his smile widening.

Harry looked at him for a moment and sighed as he uncoupled his arms.

“Fine…Do what you have to do, but I want to know everything! Understood?” Harry pressed, with a piercing glance at Ron, discouraging him from leaving him behind.

“Of course! As soon as I know more, I will keep you informed within a minute!” Ron agreed, winking.

Harry sneered slightly before clearing his throat.

“By the way… I’m really sorry for…err… the wedding…” he blew, lowered his eyes, ashamed.

Ron nodded, patting him on the shoulder with his hand.

“Don’t worry, mate. We’ll have plenty of time to celebrate when you get better!” he smiled. “And then I wasn’t going to let my amnesiac witness attend a wedding he doesn’t remember!” he added, laughing.

Draco relaxed a little in front of the touching scene unfolding before his eyes.

Harry raised his eyebrows, gaping.

“Your witness? I’m your witness?” he asked, a little smile that hardly hided his joy.

“Did you doubt that? Who else could I have asked, if not my best friend? ” Ron smiled, pressing Harry’s shoulder a little more in his hand.

“Well, I’ll tell you, I never thought of it…you weren’t together until I got here…” Harry said in a breath.

“Oh! Yeah… it must not help” Ron sneered, in front of the discomfort of his best friend.

Draco scraped his throat, drawing their attention to him.

“Far be it from me to put an end to this particularly touching painting, but I think Hermione is waiting for you to clean up the rest of the decoration” he intervened with his dragging voice.

“Oh fuck, Hermione! Sorry, mate but I have to run…” Ron exclaimed, letting go of his shoulder.

Then, he turned to Draco with a smile.

“Take good care of him and don’t hesitate to contact us if necessary” he added.

“Don’t worry” Draco replied in a grin.

Ron Side-Along, not without a last gaze, tenderized for his best friend, leaving them again alone in a heavy silence.

Harry fled his gaze, a deep discomfort seemed to overwhelm him, as he groped his fingers, biting his lips, his right foot banging nervously on the floor.

“Tea?” Draco asked after a while, breaking the discomfort between them.

Harry nodded without looking at him, taking up position on the couch.

Draco quickly walked into the kitchen, took two cups and the teapot on a tray he had prepared before Ron arrived, and set off again towards the living room, his heart beating faster than it should.

He sat next to Harry, keeping a proper distance so as not to make him more uncomfortable, taking upon him not to stick himself against him and began to pour the tea.

His hand was shaking so much that he had to put the second one on to avoid spilling it all over.

He then stretched the boiling cup to Harry, who grabbed it by touching his fingers, jumping to the touch, missing to let go of the container, before bringing it back to him with his head slightly turned to the side, avoiding his gaze.

Draco could not suppress a smile, observing a slight redness taking place on Harry’s cheeks at this contact.

According to his behavior, Draco’s suspicions about Harry’s desire for him were confirmed, but far from him the idea of using it against his will.

He did not want to rush Harry by telling him about the trouble he had felt earlier during their altercation. Draco knew it was new to him, he remembered again the first time he had could feel the envy he had for him and he had answered in favor of it…

It had electrified all his senses to know that he was not the only one to feel the urge to touch and kiss him at that time. They had both been terrified to understand what was happening to them, but the desire had overcome them and they had let it take hold of them, breaking a pleasure too long hidden between them.

They stayed for a moment to sip their tea, daring not to disturb this moment of calm, too afraid to start fighting again.

The day ended on a rather positive note.

Ron had some information to bring to them, hoping that what he was saying would later prove to be true.

Maybe the nightmare was about to end? Maybe Harry was going to regain his memories very quickly?

Draco placed his cup on the coffee table, slowly turning his head towards Harry, contemplating him in spite of himself. Harry was undeniably attractive in his clothes that Draco himself had chosen for him a few days before.

He repressed a reflex, stopping his hand when he raised it to put the label of his t-shirt back inside.

It was really complicated to keep holding back.

Harry must have felt his gaze too insistent on him, since he turned his eyes in his direction, frowning.

Draco swallowing, breaking the exchange, feeling his will to be wise escaping him.

"I leave you the room, I’ll sleep on the couch" he said, slowly rising.

Harry nodded before putting his cup on the table, rising in turn, heading for the bedroom.

Draco followed him, opening the large wardrobe in a corner of the room to take some clothes while Harry sat on the bed, following his movements.

“You’ll find something to wear in these drawers, these are mine” he said, with a nod of the head before heading back to the living room.

He stopped his progress, turning again to Harry who looked up at him, surprised.

“Do not hesitate, if you need anything…” he began, with difficulty. “I know you’d rather rip your arm off than do it, but know that… I’m no longer the same as in your memories of me… So, if you have any problems, wake me” he ended.

Harry looked at him without blinking, nodding imperceptibly, before turning and lying on the bed.

“My wand?” He asked calmly, putting his head on the pillow.

Draco remained silent for a moment, blinking once.

“You promise not to use it to escape?” he asked, calmly.

A few seconds passed before Harry nodded silently.

Draco sighed, then weighed the pros and cons, pulled the wand belonging to Harry out of the pocket of his pants and put it in a small noise on the closet by his sides.

He glanced at Harry for the last time and began to walk through the door.

“Thank you” Harry blew, from bed, without turning around.

Draco’s heart missed a beat, while his breathing became blocked in his lungs.

Then he nodded silently, without bothering to check if Harry had seen him do it and closed the door behind him.


	3. Alteration

The ticking of the clock hung on one of the walls of the room, sounded calmly, breaking the heavy silence that was installed there.

Harry was sat in a comfortable bottle-green armchair and drew lines on the large armrest while waiting for his wizard therapist to come.

The beautiful fireplace with aristocratic moldings diffused a gentle warmth in the small office, denoting largely with the place in which it was located.

The walls of the room were decorated with several wizard paintings, including beautiful landscapes, moving quietly in their frame.

Several trinkets, that Harry had never seen before, were on display on the few black wrought iron shelves.

Despite the situation, he was strangely no stressed. The cloaked atmosphere was rather pleasant, except the colors a little too dark to his taste. A mixture of gray and bottle-green with some notes of black here and there, nothing to do with the flamboyant colors in the common room of the Gryffindors that Harry particularly enjoyed. He literally thought he was in Snape’s classroom.

Harry turned his eyes away from the armchair and placed them on the imposing black desk, also in moldings, where a multitude of files of all kinds, of which his must have been included.

He lingered on a transparent bell where a beautiful black snake hovered, curled up along its branch, seeming to be sleeping. He wrinkled his eyes, trying to find out why this one was in such a small habitat and what the hell he was doing in an office like this.

Harry blinked and turned them to the massive black wood library, filled with various voluminous books of rather ancient appearance. He then looked at the large, bottle-green window framing the entire length of the desk.

Harry focused his attention on the armrest, pulling on the quilted fabric under his fingers. He glanced at the clock, following the hypnotic movement of the slowly moving needle.

He closed his eyes to regain his senses, the strange atmosphere that reigned around him seemed to lock him in a cocoon of well-being, making him almost forget where he was. He took the time to refocus before reopening them and blinking his eyelids, shaking his head.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_

His back firmly anchored in his chair, his hands flat on the armrests, he took a deep breath and ended up dislodging him with difficulty.

As soon as he had left the chair, his thoughts suddenly cleared up, immediately remembering the reason for his presence there.

Harry woke up in the morning, in the room he was supposed to share with Malfoy, who had left him, settling for his part in the sofa in the living room. He had been so disappointed to find this unknown bed, around everything he didn’t remember.

Harry had hoped so much to fall asleep and return to the dormitory that he had left, at the same time rediscovering his age and his previous life. But as he suspected, that was not the case, of course. Nothing was ever as he hoped… It was always like that with him, everything had to be irreparably complicated…

He sighed as he passed a hand through his hair, burdened by the ridicule of the situation, remembering the beginning of his morning. When he had finally deigned to leave the room to face the reality that lay before his eyes, he was surprised to find a fully prepared breakfast, spread out on the small table in the living room.

Harry had frowned, detailing the steaming cup of tea, the buns, and the jam, which seemed to wait for him wisely, while his excessively empty belly was manifesting loudly.

He hadn’t swallowed anything since he landed here. Noise behind his back had indicated that he was not alone, Malfoy must have been in the kitchen. Hardly had he thought of this idea that Malfoy had burst into the room, appearing behind him with a tray containing two small pots which he had delicately deposited with the rest of the pastries.

He had then straightened himself and gave him a shy smile, his silvery grey eyes anchored in his own. Harry’s stomach had growled at the hunger that was pulling him, making him all the more uncomfortable than the more unusual situation he was in.

Malfoy’s smile had widened somewhat as he sat on one of the armchairs near the fireplace, where an incandescent log burned.

“Eat, you must be hungry” he correctly pointed out, leaning over to take one of the cups of tea before sitting comfortably in his seat.

Harry had measured the food with distrust, before turning his attention to Malfoy, looking to see if he could really taste it safely.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you think,” he answered, Harry’s dumb silent question.

And as if to prove his point, he had used one of the buns in the wicker basket before cutting it in half to spread it with marmalade before Harry’s envious eyes.

Harry had swallowed, salivating profusely under the sweet smell of jam, toasted bread, and tea that filled his nostrils.

Malfoy had then put the knife down and handed him half a loaf of bread spread, biting one bite into the other to show him that he had nothing to fear.

Harry had stretched out his arm to grab some food and after a last look of distrust, he had bitten immediatly in the piece of bread, delighting himself with sugar that delighted his taste buds. He had sighed, feeling his body invigorating, the feeling of hunger weakening as the sugar passed through his blood to awaken his senses.

He had also agreed to sit on the couch, chewing as if his life depended on it, before swallowing loudly and grabbing a cup of tea to pass it off.

Harry then looked up at his enemy, nodding in gratitude, taking another roll in the process.

Malfoy had glanced at him silently, his cup at the height of his mouth, where he sometimes blew on the smoke that emanated from it. He had had a sip of it before putting it on the coffee table and joining his hands together, his eyes firmly resting on it.

“I have to go to work today, at the hospital,” he said before raising his metallic irises on Harry. “I’ll drop you off for your first appointment with the wizard therapist”.

Harry then stopped chewing, holding his breath.

_Oh, crap…_

He had completely forgotten what Andrea, the healer, had explained to him when he left her office, too upset to learn that what he was going through was the reality…

He didn’t want Malfoy to take him, he was old enough to do it himself. But, he didn’t have direct access to St Mango’s and obviously Malfoy would never let him go alone.

He had therefore had no choice but to nod silently, still not decided to answer him normally after the events of the previous day.

Malfoy’s lips had stretched out in a slight grin before taking his cup back to drink it again.

An awkward silence had set in, interspersed with porcelain noises and chewing from Harry, before he cleared his throat and decided to speak.

“You know who it is? My wizard therapist? ” did he asked, without looking.

Malfoy had taken some time to answer.

“I’m not quite sure, but if this is the one I’m thinking about, I can tell you that you’ll be in good hands,” he had said, in his dragging voice.

Harry had then nodded, swallowing one more bite and sipping a sip of tea.

“What time should we be there?”

Malfoy had pulled a pocket watch out of the pocket of his bent pants, opened the lid to look at the dial, and then closed it to store it immediately.

"In less than two minutes," he had replied, rising to the entrance.

Harry had followed him with his eyes, turning over completely to see him clothe himself with a jacket over his shirt, as well as a long black coat denoting on his extremely pale skin and his blond hair almost white.

With difficulty swallowing the last piece of bun, he had rubbed his fingers to drop the encrusted crumbs, and in turn had stood up beside him.

Malfoy had then handed him a brown leather jacket, which he had put on without asking any more questions, imagining that it must belong to him and the awkward moment which he feared arrived.

The last two times he had Side-Along with Malfoy had been a torment for all his senses, his body reacting totally disproportionately to his contact.

Even worse, when he had wanted to take back his wand, his body had reacted instantly, especially a part of his anatomy that he never thought he would see waking up in his presence.

Just imagining that he was in a relationship with Malfoy in his future life, his present now, his reaction would have been quite normal. But he could not bring himself to feel such a longing for his enemy, for he had never experienced such feelings towards him.

The last time he had that kind of reaction was for Ginny, before he woke up here. He had begun to feel slight feelings for her, as the summer spent together brought them a little closer together.

If he were to be perfectly objective, he would understand what today’s Harry, in relationship with the man who pressed him against him to Side-Along, must have felt for him.

Because deep down, he had felt the warmth that had spread into his heart every time he laid his eyes on him.

The feelings of the present Harry filled his mind, a wave of deep sympathy, mingled with desire devoured his bowels whenever Malfoy was not far from him.

It was more than confusing and it scared the hell out of him.

The today’s Harry seemed to nibble him from within, seeking to recover his feelings, leading a constant battle with his past self. His what he thought he was just a day ago…

When he had arrived in front of the hospital, Malfoy had escorted him to the secretary’s office where he had announced and abandoned him to go to work.

Harry had felt a slight pinch in his heart when he saw him go away, but had quickly resumed, silencing that feeling which was not his.

The chubby woman behind the switchboard then pointed him to a desk door, inviting him to settle there to wait for his wizard therapist who should not be long.

And now he’s been in the room for almost ten minutes and this bloody doctor still hasn’t arrived…

Harry, still standing, his mind definitively refocused, was about to cross the door again to escape this place. Furious at having waited in vain, finding bitterly that he had probably forgotten him.

However, the door opened before he could even reach it.

Harry froze in the center of the room, slowly revealing the man to whom this strange office belonged.

The wizard therapist’s silhouette appeared on the threshold of the door which he closed behind him, before turning completely in front of Harry.

He was a tall young man, with short brown hair framing a slim and fine face with soft features, although very masculine.

He was particularly pale, his dark blue eyes looking down on him with an imperious look, a gaze seeming to perforate him from all sides.

A slight grin appeared on the corner of his thin lips as he stared down at Harry.

He was dressed in a black shirt under a dark grey vest surrounding his waist and the muscles that were guessed. His shoulders were straight and the rest of his silhouette was slender. A pair of black trousers perfectly matched his long, thin legs, whose black patent shoes complemented the set beautifully.

A class and an undeniable charisma emerged from this young man who did not seem any older than him, perhaps he was of the same year as him.

Harry had this familiar feeling of having seen him before. He looked strangely like Malfoy in the way he dressed and behaved. This aristocratic way of standing upright and imposing, its classy clothes and perfectly cut for its size and shape of its body.

_A second Malfoy…_

As if he had heard it, the young man accentuated his grin and moved to his office, his stature further degrading the atmosphere of the room, removing the feeling of having been perfectly at ease a few minutes earlier.

He then sat down in a classy manner, before opening one of the folders placed on the table, turning a page that he browsed, no longer seeming to pay attention to him.

Harry frowned at the lack of respect shown by this individual who, in addition to being bloody late, was no more interested in him than if he had been part of the set that covered the room.

Seeing that he was still in the middle of reading his document, Harry came closer, stopping right in front of his desk to face him.

The young man finally agreed to raise his head, giving him an empty gaze of interest, before a slight smile appeared on his lips. He closed the backrest that he was holding in his hands and dug himself more comfortably into the back of his seat by joining his fingers, his elbows resting on the armrests of the chair.

“You impress me Potter, it only took you ten minutes to escape the torpor. It’s faster than any of the patients who have already crossed the threshold in my office.” he announced, his corner smile widening as he stared at Harry with his piercing eyes.

Harry opened wide his eyes, stunned by the familiar tone he displayed towards him.

“Err… Do we know each other?” he asked, frowning.

The young wizard therapist stretched his smile more, which became more than disturbing.

“You can say that, yes, let’s say we’re old acquaintances,” he explained, grabbing a leaf at the top of the pile of scrolls to place it in front of him.

Harry wrinkled his eyes, desperately seeking in his memories someone who could closely or remotely match him.

"Sorry, but I don't see who you are" he said, in a crude tone.

The young man sneered softly, seeming no more disconcerted than that.

“I’m not really surprised, we were, strictly speaking, two individuals studying in the same school, nothing more.” he added, leaning a little forward to take the majestic feather resting on its base.

“I guess you’re referring to Hogwarts, but I still don’t see who you are” Harry hissed, starting to lose patience watching him beat around the bush.

“I am indeed referring to our years in Hogwarts, but as I told you we weren’t so close, we didn’t even share the same dormitory.” He explained, dipping the feather in its ink.

“Which house were you from?” Harry asked, immediately.

The therapist sneered again, scratching the tip of his pen on the parchment before raising his head in his direction.

"I leave it to you to guess, I’m convinced that you already have a vague idea," he jeered, in a sarcastic grin.

_Oh yeah…_

"Slytherin, obviously" Harry said, looking at the room.

The young man stared at him for a moment, his iris seeming to pierce his own before stretching a victorious smile.

"I plead guilty," he sneered, opening his hands, his forearms again resting on the armrests of his chair.

“Still doesn’t tell me who you are” Harry pointed out, in a crude tone, glaring at him, not really reassured to have to deal with this kind of character.

He figured out why Malfoy looked so confident, having himself been a Slytherin, it was obvious that he was one of his comrades and that he knew him well.

“You’re absolutely right. Theodore Nott, wizard therapist, specializing in memory loss cases” he claimed, extending a hand to Harry, leaning forward.

Harry gauged this hand for a moment before deigning to hold it briefly, quickly loosening his grip to bring his arm back to his side.

A flash of lucidity erupted and the anger passed through him before he went any further to lay his arms stretched out on the desk, bending his face towards that of the young man.

“Nott?! Like the Death Eater?!” Harry spit out, a deep rage seething in him.

The few lights of the room wobbled under the influence of his magic, as it did every time he let it take over his reason.

The wizard therapist blinked for a moment, observing the effects of his flow on the various elements, strangely excited.

“My father was indeed one, I even think I remember that it was you and your gang who had him imprisoned in our fifth year.” He replied, in a dragging tone, not in the least bewildered.

This answer, disturbed Harry a little, whose rage slowly subsided, bringing more light back into the office.

Nott looked up at the candlesticks hanging on the wall with a particularly impressed look.

“The rumors were well founded from what I saw,” he said, before turning his worrying gaze on Harry again.

Harry frowned, pulling his hands out of the office to rise up.

“What are you talking about?” he spit, always distrustful, allowing himself to more familiarity given the person standing in front of him.

“I’m talking about your inability to control your magic flow when you’re upset. Like when you inflated your aunt…” the young man specified, insinuating the extent of the information he possessed.

Harry wrinkled his eyes, with Nott’s arrogant tone, before taking a deep breath to force himself to calm down.

"I’m surprised to find you here, I was convinced that you would follow the path of your beloved father," he replied, in a contemptuous tone.

Nott stared at him quietly, visibly amused by his behavior, not seeming disconcerted by his remarks.

“At the risk of disappointing you, I’ve never had the vocation of following the path of the Dark Lord, nor that which you have otherwise taken. I never could bear to have someone standing over me to dictate to me what to do. If I had to choose, I would have done so on my own, but neither of the two possibilities caught my attention enough for me to concede a real interest”

Harry raised eyebrows before blinking, totally dazed.

He vaguely remembered Nott, this student always in his corner, rather lonely and very discreet, never drawing attention to him.

He had had some echoes of Hermione concerning his rather developed intelligence, he could see it in front of the stature and superior look that he displayed.

Nott seemed perfectly aware of his intellectual abilities, he had this way of showing you that this was the case without exposing it to you in person.

He simply did not need it, an incredible perspicacity emanated from him, fully revealing the excellence of his person.

The young man had this ability to crush you with his whole being, as the impression that Dumbledore made him when he took his look so seriously.

“Do you have any more questions or are we finally going to start what you’re here for?” Nott asked, crossing his fingers on his desk.

Harry reflected for a moment, confused by the young man’s way of speaking to him.

“What did you mean earlier? Talking about the torpor?” he wondered, remembering his first remark.

Nott stretched a big scary smile, showing a certain pride on his face.

“Oh! That’s one of the peculiarities of my practice, you see. The chair you were sitting in a few minutes ago is spellbound to dissuade patients from leaving my office. It’s endowed with a powerful persuasive spell that plunges anyone in contact with it into a sense of well-being and comfort. The patient is then totally relaxed and reveals everything I want to hear without having to cook it more” he explained.

Harry listened to him without blinking, reminded the sensation of tranquility that had invaded him for a moment, enclosing him in a cocoon where he felt safe, somewhat blurring his thoughts.

“It’s amazing that you got out so quickly,” Nott added, staring at him, with an excited look.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"I don’t see what’s strange about leaving a chair, however bewitched it may be," he replied, without understanding his discernment.

Nott made a slight sneer.

“What’s surprising is that this spell is designed to keep the patient in a state of torpor, inviting him to remain resolutely prostrated in this chair until the end of the session and that you, you got out after only a few minutes of your own initiative. If I’m not mistaken, you must certainly have a particular resistance to persuasive spells. It’s a rare ability, and to your credit.” he specified, his dark blue eyes shining with greed.

Harry listened to him seriously, realizing that he had paid the price for a subtle manipulation worthy of an ex-Slytherin, being absolutely not surprised.

He had always known that he was particularly resistant to these kinds of spells, since his fourth year to be quite accurate. He had demonstrated this during the lessons of the false Alastor Moody, who had insisted so much on teaching them by subjecting them to the _Imperium Curse_.

Harry kept well, however, to remind him of this memory, although he has the impression that this Nott is already aware of a lot of things concerning him.

_This bloke is really scary…_

Nott still stared at him, this time with great interest.

Harry could see in his eyes the path of his reflection, as a genius who seeks a way to solve his equation.

For any answer, Harry looked down on him, really didn’t like the idea that someone like him was so informed about himself.

The sorcerer’s world had always been more up-to-date on his past than he had ever been, but if he had learned not to worry about it, it was always annoying and demeaning to see how much we were being watched in this way.

All the more so since all this was true, it was now ten years since he had not met this individual and that he remembers him as well as Harry had only a vague memory of him was particularly revealing.

“Well, I think it’s time to start this session, we have about thirty minutes before the end of this one, our lovely reunion having taken up the rest of the time. If you’ll settle in, please” Nott announced, glancing at the clock on his wall before pointing his hand at the small corner near the fireplace.

Harry squinted his eyes, following his move, before turning his face towards him again, raising his brow, skeptically.

Nott stretched a slight grin, seeming to hide a nascent laugh behind the corners of his quivering mouth.

“Of course you don’t have to go back to the chair anymore, Potter. I will gladly leave it to you to choose the sofa, which is, for its part, not bewitched” he claimed, turning his eyes to the furniture.

Harry turned heels, closing in on a suspicious step from the indicated corner.

He carefully bypassed the chair before gauging the sofa, weighing the pros and cons, not really determined to settle for touching it.

A little sneer goes off in his back.

“I assure you, Potter, only the chair has the spell. The rest of my furniture is perfectly devoid of it. But you’ll soon realize that, because obviously, if he had been, he wouldn’t have any effect on you” he confirmed, standing slowly, to get close to him.

Harry stood for a few more seconds, extending his hand on the back of the couch, pounding on it. Nothing happened, no sensation of mist in the brain, or of a particular desire to stay stuck in it at all costs.

He finally agreed to sit down and turned his attention to the young man who was a few meters away, his hands in his pants pockets, leaning against his desk.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nott raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Me? Nothing. You, on the other hand, will tell me exactly what you remember,” he quietly explained.

Harry sneered.

“And why would I do that, tell me?”

“Simply because you’re here for the sole purpose of helping you refocus your memories and fill your memory gaps.” Nott replied.

“Because you honestly think I’m going to confide in a fucking Slytherin like you? That’s ridiculous!” Harry hissed, shaking his head with contempt.

“I will not tolerate you insulting me in my office, Potter. I’m here to help you remember, not to pick on me because my family has made choices you don’t like.” Nott retorted, firmly.

“I don’t give a shit that you didn’t supposedly participate in the war with Voldemort, you’re still a Death Eater’s son and a rotten Slytherin and I’m not gonna talk about how I feel, with you.” Harry shouted, wincing.

Nott stretched his lips with a slight grin before very slowly pulling his wand out of a sleeve of his shirt and pointing it at Harry.

Harry tensed up, loosening his arms slightly, intrigued by this turn of events.

The wizard therapist then began a wrist gesture that made Harry tense a little more, expecting the worst, when a box of tissues materialized on the small coffee table in front of him.

Harry blinked and frowned, staring at the object without understanding.

He raised his head towards Nott, still shocked by his move.

“What the hell is this shit?” he hissed, wincing.

A wide smile split Nott’s lips as he quietly stowed his wand under his shirt, looking down on him.

“A simple precaution, in the event that your trauma is far too great to contain,” he explained, ironically.

Harry glared at him, the muscles of his jaw contracting dangerously.

_Fucking bastard…_

The lights around them again flickered, triggering a slight sneer from Nott, who seemed to enjoy the show.

Harry felt very clearly that he was just an experiment. A common laboratory sample that was left in the open air to check how the composition was taking.

“So, you’re gonna fuck with me, aren’t you?” he shouted, clenching his fists, arms still crossed on his chest.

Nott sketched a sarcastic smile as he got closer in his direction.

“Maybe” he confirmed, standing in front of him. “Or maybe I’m just doing what I get paid a lot of money for” he added, raising an eyebrow.

Harry raised his own, a grin adorning his lips.

“I don’t see how, making me lose my temper and pissed me off, are something to do with your work Nott” he hissed.

“This is where you’re wrong, my dear Potter, getting to know the reactions of my patients is primarily part of why I’m employed, as is assessing how you feel and deal with the issues around you” he argued, moving closer to a shelf on one of the walls to contemplate the various trinkets on display.

Harry frowned, lost in thought.

“You may not feel that way, but I’ve learned a lot since you’ve been here. Enough to determine many aspects of your personality” he added, moving an object.

Harry just looked down on him, taken aback by the young man standing in front of him.

He had rarely seen anyone so sure of himself and so calm. It was evident that Nott had belonged to the house of the Slytherins, his malicious and aristocratic side was exhaling with all his being. But he had a very erudite side that might have suggested that he was part of the Ravenclaws, because he looked so witty.

“I don’t fucking care what you think you found out about me, I won’t talk about my memories with you.” Harry ended.

Nott stood in front of his shelf, dusting even the top of a box, before finally turning his face towards the clock.

“Our little interview is coming to an end, you are free to go” he said, calmly.

Harry turned his eyes to the clock, daring not to believe it, and rose swiftly to get out of this hell.

He walked up to the door and was about to open it when the wizard therapist’s voice was ringing in his back.

“I took care to write down your next appointments, in case you inadvertently forgot to ask for them. But please don’t miss them, it’s about your mental health, Potter, whether you know it or not.” He said, in a dragging voice.

Harry stood still for a few seconds, then sighed, closing his eyes before opening the door and going through it.

He walked down the small hallway to return to the switchboard where Malfoy was already waiting for him, sitting on one of the chairs in the waiting room. He rose immediately when he saw him.

Harry tried to ignore the beating of his heart which accelerated at the sight of Malfoy, silencing the heat that was spreading in the hollow of his belly.

He saw Malfoy clearly sketch a thin smile on his lips, his grey eyes filled with a deep sympathy which he did not know.

“Everything okay?” he asked, seeming a little worried.

Harry nodded positively before looking away, seeking to mask the discomfort he felt in his presence.

Malfoy did not insist anymore and led him to the exit. Once outside, he made a brief stop, before gently moving closer to hug his waist, pressing his fingers against Harry’s jacket.

Harry held his breath in his lungs. Apprehending the Side-Along from which he still could not get used to the effects as well as the emotions that this gesture made him feel.

After landing, he quickly detached himself from Malfoy’s embrace, to settle down in the sofa of the living room, surprisingly happy to find this house after the confusing exchange with his therapist.

Harry sighed, taking his face in his hands, slumped against the back of the couch.

He finally felt like he was breathing, away from that sordid office and the strange character that Nott was.

He spread his fingers and laid his eyes on Malfoy, who had not moved since they had arrived.

Harry frowned as he removed his hands to stare at him.

"You’re going to stand there?" he asked, in a crude tone.

Malfoy grinned.

“I’m not staying, Potter. I still have work to do,” he replied, in a dragging tone.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“And what the hell I supposed to do, in the meantime?” he hissed, dissatisfied that Malfoy left him in a house which, though all say so, was not _his_.

Malfoy raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“You’re going to pretend you’re home, because _you are_ ” he calmly replied.

Harry sighed, snapping his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“I want to get Malfoy out, I can’t stay here alone,” he said, suddenly getting up.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of here on your own” Malfoy said, looking down on him.

Harry gauged him for a few moments before shaking his head and complying. He didn’t have a choice anyway, _he_ wouldn’t give him a choice.

“All right, in that case I’ll ask Ron or Hermione to come with me outside” he said, standing in front of the fireplace with the firm care of calling them.

“They’re not available” Malfoy announced, in a cold tone.

Harry turned his eyes toward him more than annoyed.

“Oh yeah? And what makes you say that?” He replied, his patience is slowly crumbling.

“They’re working. It shouldn’t have been, but their wedding was cancelled, so they moved their leave.” Malfoy jeered, in his dragging voice.

Harry swallowed with difficulty, feeling uncomfortable that he has once again obstructed his loved ones' plans. It was always necessary for anything that affected him from near or far to affect his friends, who had paid the price many times.

“Of course, it’s always my fault…” he sighed, closing his eyes in spite.

“No Har… Potter, the only one to blame is the one who put you in this state,” Malfoy said, in a strangely low voice.

Harry sneered slightly before turning in his direction, a desperate look glued to the face.

“What’s the hell talking about him since I can’t even find him” he sighed.

Malfoy swept the air with a movement of his hand, snapping his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Let Ron take care of it, he and the Aurors will take care of capturing this asshole and bringing back your memories” he said.

Harry grinned.

“You look so eager that I can remember” he noticed.

Malfoy frowned, visibly astonished.

"Of course!" he assured, anchoring his steel eyes in his own.

Harry looked at him without blinking, wondering if he was telling the truth.

“What if it doesn’t happen? If it doesn’t work and I stay the way I am?” he challenged him to answer.

Malfoy appeared to tense slightly, the muscles of his jaw contracting under his words.

“As long as you’re doing well, that’s the most important thing” he said, in a slightly hoarse voice.

Harry laughed in front of the particularly bruised look of Malfoy, not expecting to see him one day worrying about his fate.

“Sorry, Malfoy, but I can hardly believe you really mean it” he sneered.

Malfoy looked down on him for a moment before sketching a slight grin, devoid of any malice.

“You’re right, I would most certainly be devastated” he said, in a tone filled with bitterness.

Harry opened wide his green eyes behind his glasses, shocked by his revelation. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat and regaining a capacity.

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

Malfoy’s smile widened, and the features of his face continued to show that saddened face he did not know.

“I _mean_ , if you don’t get all your memories back, I’ll be deeply hurt that I lost the person who shared my life,” he explained, in his dragging voice.

His words echoed in the mind of Harry, who felt his heart beat louder and a gentle warmth spread throughout his body.

He winced, however, at his inappropriate remarks.

“Stop it, Malfoy! Whatever may have happened, you remain the dirty little Slytherin that I have always known” he jeered in a tone that was meant to be contemptuous.

Malfoy made a slight sneer before anchoring his piercing eyes in his.

“That’s what I’m seeing, yes” he concluded, in a cold tone, his smile disappearing.

Harry stared at him, noticing a few dark circles under his eyes, a sign that he probably couldn’t sleep last night. He, himself, had difficulty finding sleep in a bed that was not his own, in a place he did not know.

He couldn’t believe Malfoy was worried about him. Nevertheless, everything in his words and actions suggested that this was indeed the case.

Malfoy really seemed to be touched by the events that concerned him.

He suddenly plunged his hand into a pocket of his trousers to pull out a long silver chain where his pocket watch was attached.

He opened the dial and observed it before closing it and storing it in the garment.

"Well, I have to go" he added, raising his inexpressive, metallic eyes.

He was about to Side-Along when Harry suddenly stepped forward to interrupt him.

"Wait!" he shouted, raising his arm in his direction to hold him.

Malfoy froze for a moment, frowning.

Harry, whose breath had strangely accelerated, stared at him without knowing what to say to him.

He just didn’t want to see him leave without him. He felt like an irresistible urge to hold Malfoy back to keep him close to him.

“What am I going to do? I don’t even know the house, I don’t even know what I’m used to doing here…” he blew, desperate to find himself alone in the midst of all the future he didn’t remember.

Malfoy looked at him with a bruised look before surreptitiously closing his eyes and answering him.

“Find something to do. There’s reading on this side,” he said, pointing to the library with his chin.

Harry glanced at the library before nodding his head as he sighed.

Malfoy stared at him one last time before finally Side-Along, leaving him alone in the middle of the living room.

Harry took the opportunity to pick up his wand which he had been forced to leave for his visit to the wizard therapist because it’s not allowed during consultations.

Malfoy had gave it back to him the day before, as Harry had asked, and he had kept his word.

It was absolutely out of the question that Harry would stand there patiently waiting for his “lover” to come home from work while the asshole who had taken away his memories wandered quietly into the wild.

He stowed it in his trouser pocket and tried to Side-Along in turn for “the Barrow” where he was sure to find someone to help him.

Nothing happened, however, it was as if blocked and totally unable to make its magic work.

Harry frowned as he hurried towards the entrance, determined to flee from here, no matter what Malfoy and his friends thought. But again, he was brutally pushed back by a force field that seemed to surround the door.

He sighed, before taking out his wand, rolling his eyes.

"Confringo!" he shouted, waving his wrist to the door.

The spell struck the magical barrier without any effect, seeming as if sucked through.

Harry frowned before repeating the experiment, which ended in the same way.

"Expulso!" he shouted, again.

But none of the spells were able to defeat the unquestionably too powerful one that held him here.

Not admitting defeat, he turned his heels toward the fireplace, where he took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the hearth, ready to escape.

But there again, a field blocked the entrance and the powder ricocheted on it landing in his face, making him step back and fall on the couch.

Harry coughed and dusted his clothes before getting up.

He get upset, grabbing a book that was lying around and threw it across the room. He did the same with the various books in the library, overturning many of the trinkets that hung there.

After having devastated part of the living room, he felt a little better, adrenaline slowly leaving his body having again lost his means.

He took the time to find his breathing, which had become erratic as a result of the efforts to devastate the living room before locking himself in the bedroom and resting on the bed.

It was perfectly ridiculous, but the despair of one day finding back his world as he knew it, gave him the irresistible urge to collapse and cry.

He closed his eyes, strongly wrinkling his eyelids to prevent himself from letting go, his eyelashes already wet from tears that were trying to escape.

He took the pillow and pinned it against his face and smothered a scream, gripping the edges of the fabric firmly between his fingers.

He was really stuck here…

Alone…

Helpless…

Harry breathed slowly, loosening the pillow and finally resting it on the bed.

He stared at the ceiling, always the urge to cry, because he was fucking upset, because he was totally lost…

Harry grabbed his wand and stared at it for a few moments before closing his eyes again, exhaling loudly.

_Positive thoughts…_

"Expecto Patronum" he casted, with a wrist move.

A silver mist appeared, flying before his eyes but no sign of his majestic stag.

Harry frowned, intrigued to miss his spell, which he had so far been successful since his third year.

The smoke dissipated quickly, leaving him perplexed and definitely overwhelmed.

Events had undoubtedly bruised him internally, it was difficult to remain focused on a happy memory.

_Gone up in flames too…_

Harry shook his head, straightening up, closing his eyes again to refocus.

He thought of his mother, then of his father, that all this was a mere nightmare and that he would soon wake up in his bed in Hogwarts.

And against all odds, he thought of Malfoy. His face appeared in the midst of his thoughts, his grin and his strange, faded-looking irises stared at him with the feeling of kindness he had been transmitting to him since his arrival.

Harry squeezed his teeth, trying to chase away this unwanted picture that persisted to remain embedded in his retina.

Seeing that it would not leave, he sighed and imbued himself with his feeling, his heart beating louder in his chest and cast the spell again, opening his eyes.

His old friend materialized immediately, his large woods and his vaporous silhouette got closer to him majestically, staring at him with his small piercing eyes.

A sad smile stretched Harry’s lips as he stared at the beautiful stag motionless in front of him.

He felt less alone now, surrounded by a loved one whom he recognized, someone who had not changed, a pillar which he desperately needed to move on.

Feeling a little better, he got up to go around the room, his wooded friend, always by his side.

He went through the shelves, looking at the various photographs where he, Ron and Hermione smiled. Malfoy was there, too, somewhat behind on some, but never very far from him.

On one of them, he was right beside him, Harry saw himself glancing at him and making a little grin while Malfoy looked at the lens, raising an arrogant eyebrow.

Another, where they were standing upright, both looking at the lens, arms along their body, their hands dangerously close as their fingers brushed gently.

He then took a brief glance at the picture he had turned over, facing against the night table, so as not to have to contemplate it so much that it made him uncomfortable.

It wasn’t just the effect it was having on him, though.

As soon as he laid eyes on it, when his reason settled enough withered away to his own bullshit, he lifted it up to see if it did not start to change. Like he’s hoping it’s not really there.

But it was…

They looked good, in each other’s arms, smiling, happy and kissing each other with love.

Then Harry would put the picture back against the table, wincing against the heartbeat of his heart that instantly filled with the vision of Malfoy’s lips to delight his own, to the warmth down to his lower belly to this simple idea.

Harry leaned over to a Quidditch trophy where the word "Seeker" was engraved right above his last name.

Pamphlets of the Daily Prophet neatly folded and tidied up showed him holding firmly the Snitch as he flew on his broom, dressed in his white and black outfits bearing the effigy of his team “Montrose Magpies”.

He looked happy. The title said he had just won the cup.

_It sounds so real…_

As he continued his inspection, another object attracted his attention, a transparent jar with a crystal stopper, filled with a strangely vaporous liquid. Harry fixed it for a few moments before reaching out to remove the cap, intrigued by what was in it.

A strange phenomenon occurred. The liquid began to shine softly, a slight rattling on its right and the significant sound of a creaking door.

He turned his head in his direction while pulling out his magic wand in a defensive reflex.

Harry gauged for a moment the opening of the door which had been activated after he had touched the bottle, his wand stretched in front of him as protection.

He moved forward cautiously, his Patronus following him. With a movement of the wrist, he told it to pass in front, passing through the shutter, without any sign of danger manifesting itself.

Harry then pushed the door with his foot, looking for any possible attack or repulsive spells.

He entered with a cautious step, his silver stag in the center of the room looking at him calmly, showing him that all danger was cleared.

Harry relaxed a little, still keeping his wand in his hand, lowering it a little and began to detail the strange secret passage.

A huge stone column hung in a corner of the room, a container of the same material was deposited there, volutes of fumes floated over a strange, thick silver liquid.

Harry’s eyes wide opened when he recognized the object.

_A Pensieve…_

Harry slowly got closer the support, stunned to find such a magical object here.

When he laid his hand on it, two sumptuous cabinets appeared instantly, on each side of the container.

He had a startle, but without removing his fingers which held firmly the edges of the Pensieve, clinging more than reason not to fall under the shock.

Harry turned to one of the cabinets to detail it, going through the different vials where labels indicated a keyword of the memory they contained.

He opened the window delicately to catch one of the bottles at random, to read the word that was written there.

_“DM-AT”_

Harry frowned as he turned the vial between her fingers, perplexed by the syllables, which did not tell him more about the origin of the memory it kept.

Without wasting any more time and because his curiosity was in excitement, he opened the bottle and leaned it over the Pensieve.

The filament flowed slowly and became animated as it came into contact with the silver liquid.

A picture of the Astronomy Tower appeared in the middle of the smoke volute.

After a quick look at his Patronus to make sure it was still there, Harry took a deep breath and plunged his head first into the cold liquid, totally immersing himself.

_The feeling of emptiness took him away in a hellish fall before landing his feet flat on the cobblestones of the highest tower of the castle of Hogwarts._

_He contemplated for a moment the particularly familiar place, his heart filling with joy at the idea of seeing again a place he knew._

_It was night, the candlesticks illuminating the darkened stone somewhat, a crescent moon reflecting calmly on the lake that bordered the forbidden forest._

_A sigh drew his attention to the side and he saw himself, leaning on the small wall, facing the castle park, his black jet hair fluttering softly to the small breeze that was rising._

_He still had his famous round glasses, his emerald green eyes fixed on the horizon, a gloomy air stuck to his face._

_Harry got closer to his past, detailing the witch dress he was wearing. On his Gryffindor blazon, it said “7th year”._

_Harry opened wide his eyes, and if he had not fallen a few moments earlier, he would have sworn that his inner being had fallen to his feet._

_So Malfoy had told the truth… They had indeed started over their seventh year…_

_While he was still lost in his thoughts, the Harry of Remembrance turned slightly to look behind him before focusing his attention on the landscape in front of him._

_Harry followed the spot where his past had briefly laid his eyes and his heart leapt when a hooded figure appeared on the last step._

_The color of the inner panels of his dress left no doubt about the belonging of the house of the unknown._

_As if to confirm his thoughts, the stranger has taken a step forward, and he could glimpse the silver green blazon hanging on his chest._

_Seeing that he was not alone, the stranger seemed to freeze for a moment, his face remaining hidden by the dim light and the hood surrounding him._

_He slowly turned his head towards the Gryffindor, waiting visibly for a sign from him._

_"Good evening Malfoy" his past said, without turning around._

_The silhouette seemed to tense up slightly before finally raising the arms, raising at the same time its long sleeves and catching the edges of its hood to make it fall._

_Draco Malfoy’s pale and fine face revealed itself in the night, the whiteness of his skin seemed almost shining, denoting with the dark tissue he was wearing._

_Her blond hair almost white was plated back, some strands of which were brought forward surely due to the wearing of the hood._

_He had this look of disdain that Harry knew, but the glow in his eyes was no longer filled with malice._

_The contempt he spent his time expressing to him had given way to a profoundly empty and bruised gaze, making him look more human than he believed._

_A Malfoy as in this strange future that he didn’t remember..._

_Being eight years younger, his features were still a little softer, the teenager slowly gave way to the adult he would become a few years later._

_"Good evening Potter" he replied, with his dragging voice, which remained unchanged._

_Malfoy got closer cautiously, the sides of his robe floating gently to the movement of his steps and the light breeze that passed._

_“It’s becoming a habit, it seems.” he sneered, setting up next to the Gryffindor._

_The Harry of the past, vaguely turned his head in his direction, glaring at him with a frown._

_“What are you talking about?” he asked._

_Malfoy grinned, sticking his grey eyes in his past._

_“I’m talking about our nightly appointments, although absolutely involuntary, of course” he replied._

_The Harry of the past stared at him for a moment, before stretching a smile on his lips, turning away to continue his contemplation._

_“Yeah, we can say that…” he blew, his eyes lowered to the void._

_Malfoy did not leave his eyes, however, observing him from top to bottom, before turning his head towards the horizon._

_“I’m surprised that you would even speak to me. I’d have thought that after all the times we met, you would remain eternally silent." he noticed, his smile widening as he admired the sky._

_The Gryffindor raised his eyebrows._

_“You liked it better when I kept my mouth shut? ‘Cause if that’s what you want, I can go back to being mute” he sneered, looking up at the forest._

_Malfoy stretched his smile a little more before sneering in turn._

_“No, as strange as it may seem, your voice doesn’t displease me as much as I’d have thought” he replied._

_The Harry of the past widened his smile to show his teeth, before turning his head in the direction of the Slytherin who did the same._

_They stared and smiled at each other for a moment before the Harry of the past broke the exchange and laid his eyes on the starry sky again._

_“I thought that everything about me bothered you” he sneered._

_“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but that’s not what bothers me most about you, Potter.”_ _Malfoy sighted, turning completely to the Gryffindor._

_He did the same, sticking his amused green eyes in the metallic iris._

_“Oh, so there are many aspects of me that bother you” he showed, with a move of his hand._

_“Of course!” Malfoy said, raising an arrogant eyebrow._

_The Harry of the past shook his head when he sighed._

_“Always so kind, as I see it…” he blew, displaying an amused smile towards his nemesis._

_“Nevertheless, if I were to be completely honest, some are more pleasant than others” Malfoy added, passing a hand under his chin, thinking._

_The Harry of the past blinked before emitting a slight sneer._

_“You’re going to make me believe that you like something about me, Malfoy?” he asked, seeming not to believe it at all._

_“All due respect, there are a few things to consider.” he admitted, nodding._

_The Harry of the past raised skeptical eyebrows._

_“Oh, and which ones?” he asked, visibly very curious, what Malfoy would find to say to him._

_Malfoy stared at him for a moment, before anchoring his grey orbs in his owns, sounding him from all sides._

_“Far be it from me to make your Scarhead swell, but despite the fact that I have always denigrated your physical appearance, your eyes are surely by far what I’d remember about you.” he replied, in a dragging tone._

_Both Harry opened wide their beautiful green eyes under Malfoy’s admission, unquestionably stunned._

_"My eyes? Really?" he asked anyway, still not being convinced that the Slytherin was telling the truth._

_“Really” Malfoy nodded._

_Harry wrinkled his eyes as he looking down on him._

_“And why is that?” he answered, visibly seeking to know a little more about this revelation._

_Malfoy stretched a teasing smile when raising an eyebrow._

_“Because they’re green?”_

_The Harry of the past slammed his tongue on the roof of his mouth before making a theatrical gesture with his hand._

_“Yeah, well, dog my cats…” he sneered, rolling his eyes._

_“At least, I’ve the audacity to appreciate something about you, which is certainly not your case.” Malfoy pointed, smugly._

_"No, you’re right, it’s not." The Gryffindor quick replied, with a malicious smile on his lips._

_Malfoy’s face split a few seconds with a particularly outraged look before he regained constancy and put back his cold, impassive mask._

_The Harry of the past burst out laughing at the half-emotion that Malfoy had just shared with him before breathing a great blow to calm his mad laugh._

_“Breathe Malfoy! If I have to be honest too, I would say that I admire your stature and your glib repartee” he finally admitted, grinning._

_Malfoy stared at him for a moment before raising a skeptical eyebrow._

_“My glib repartee?”_

_The Harry of the past nodded, his smile not having left his lips._

_“Yeah, you are the only one who knows how to turn me down and get me out of my head with your scathing remarks. And as much as I hate it when you do, I find it invigorating." he explained._

_Malfoy frowned before raising an eyebrow, visibly amused._

_“Allow me to doubt your mental health to enjoy being belittled in this way” he sneered, in his dragging voice._

_The Gryffindor sighed, shaking his head before anchoring his emeralds in the faded ones of Malfoy._

_“It’s not the fact that you belittle me that I like, it’s your way of making me exist through your words, without pinching as the witch world strives to do. You’ve always exhumed what I felt deep inside, even what bothered me and you’re the only one today to achieve this”_

_Malfoy seemed for a moment confused, his mouth opening somewhat, as he stared at the Harry of the past as if he saw him for the first time. As if he really seemed to know him._

_He answered nothing, however, simply nodding, frowning and turning his face to the horizon._

_The Harry of the present looked at the scene, his of the past always stared at the Slytherin whose eyes remained resolutely fixed before him._

_Harry saw himself sketched a last friendly smile, marked with a certain affection before lowering his eyes and bringing them before him to explore the sky._


	4. Flayed

In the entrance of the house, there was a loud crack noise, where only the whistling of a log burning in the imposing fireplace of the living room was heard.

A gentle heat spread until the vestibule where Draco Malfoy stripped himself of his long black coat. He then hung it on the jacket holder. He took care to adjust the collar of his shirt, smoothing it to remove the folds before pulling on his jacket to perfect his outfit, which had slightly ruffled under his coat.

After passing a hand in his hair to put back a few strands of rebellious hair behind his ears, he turned his heels in the direction of the living room, a little disturbed by the calm that reigned there.

Draco had done everything possible to shorten his working day in order to save Harry from being alone too long.

He had spent most of his time in the making of a Wiggenweld potion, which had required him to do studious and meticulous work. Once he had added the second-last ingredient to the preparation, he had adjusted the concoction time so that the preparation would heat up overnight. He would then simply have to incorporate the salamander blood so that it would be completely ready for use.

Before he definitively left his laboratory, he had looked up at the witch clock that had displayed 5:00 p.m., then had turned off the lights of the room to go to the Treatment of Spell Damage department to meet Theodore Nott.

He had hoped that his former roommate would be available to receive him despite the fact that he had no idea of his schedule.

Draco was convinced that Harry had no intention of revealing his meeting with Theo and was determined to know the outcome. So he had went to his old classmate’s strange office and had knocked on the door. Theo’s voice had been heard behind the door, inviting him to enter and he had not been begged to do so.

Theo had not bothered to stand up to welcome him, nor had he even looked up his eyes as the files on which he was leaning.

Draco had positioned himself in the center of the room, briefly detailing the decoration he had found to his liking, before putting his grey gaze on the wizard therapist, who had applied himself to having his quill scratched on a parchment.

“Do I have to sit on the couch for you to pay attention to me?” Draco had jeered, raising an eyebrow.

Theo’s quill had stopped on the paper before a grin appeared on the lips.

He had taken the time to rest it and close his file before slowly lifting his blue lagoon eyes into those of Draco, in a piercing gaze.

Draco had then felt that he was trying to enter his mind. He had suspected that Theo would seek to scrutinize him as he did with all his patients. Fortunately, in his _unfortunate_ past, he learned to close the barriers of his thoughts.

He knew that the _Legilimency_ was one of the prerequisites for the position of wizard therapist and was very surprised to learn that Theo, his former classmate, was a _Legilimens_.

Very few wizards had the ability to use this gift, he himself was not able to master it enough to read clearly in the minds of others.

On the other hand, he was particularly good at Occlumancy. A capacity that his late aunt Bellatrix had taught him to help him carry out his mission in sixth year and thus hide what it consisted of.

Theo’s smile had widened when Draco felt the pressure on his mind stop, suspecting that the wizard therapist had understood that he would get nothing from him in this way.

“Far be it from me to make you wait longer, it’s not every day that I have the visit of two of my former comrades, the most famous of all Hogwarts! In our time, at least” he had hissed, interleaving his fingers.

Draco had raised a new eyebrow, dipping his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“You’re telling me… That is precisely why I came to disturb you, even though I’m sure you already know it…” he had grinned, with his dragging voice.

Theo had stared at him for a long time before deigning to answer him very calmly.

“Let’s just say I do have a vague idea of what brings me the honor of your being in this office. But you know me, I would never dare say anything without being quite sure” he had noticed.

Draco had repressed an annoyed smile, clenching his teeth in front of his cynical colleague, perfectly aware that he had wanted to make him spit words rather than simply answer him.

_Fucking bastard…_

It had been obvious that Theo knew the purpose of his presence here, but it had been just as obvious as a good ex-Slytherin, he would not inform him so easily without trying to make him lose his means by making him confess verbally what he wanted.

“I’d like to hear your verdict on Potter” Draco had blew, in a dragging tone.

A glimmer of interest had shone in Theo’s eyes at the mention of the hero of wizard world. A disturbing smile had drawn on his lips as he continued to look at him with that piercing glance.

“I assume you’re aware that my consultations are completely confidential, whether or not you’re a relative of this patient. Therefore, I’m sorry, but I can’t grant your request” he had answered, in a falsely contrite tone.

_Obviously…_

Draco had known, from the moment he had passed the threshold of this door, that the young wizard therapist would not reveal anything to him about the consultation of Potter. However, that did not prevent him from hoping that he would break the rules for an old acquaintance like him.

After all, they had shared seven years of common life when they were in Hogwarts. Every morning, they got up and every night, they fell asleep in the same dormitory. They had also occupied the same common room, attending school classes together, although their schedules differed depending on the specialties they had both chosen.

Despite all their common past, it wasn’t enough to get Theo to talk about Potter’s wizard therapy session.

“I do know the terms of the contract that bind you, but I had nevertheless hoped that in memory of the good old days you would have broken the rules for one of your old acquaintances and especially for a colleague” he had tried, in half a smile.

Theo had wrinkled his eyes before settling more comfortably in the back of his seat.

“If I follow your reasoning, the fact that we have a common past justifies me being able to betray the code of professional secrecy? Just because we shared the same bathroom at another time?” he had asked, with a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow.

Draco had repressed a wince, in front of the arrogant look of his former roommate.

Obviously, suggested in this way, it might have seemed ridiculous.

It was, however, what had crossed his mind, within one minute, within one _tiny hope_ , to know the medical opinion of a master in this stuff.

Draco had always known that Theo was smarter than him, perhaps more than Hermione, if he dared think about it. This man had always been one step ahead of events. It was surely for this reason that he had not become more involved during the war, certain of the outcome of it.

Theodore Nott was a bloody genius. It was undeniable and Draco was delighted to know that he would take care of Harry, convinced that he was the best placed and also the best wizard therapist of his generation to be able to help Potter out psychologically.

“You summed up perfectly what I expected of you. Now, are you going to answer my request or are you going to be stuck in your perfect little therapist suit that doesn’t break any rules, not even for those who share the Survivor’s life?” he had dared, although using Potter’s notoriety had never been in his attention.

Theo had then sneered at his attempt, not very subtle, of persuasion, it had to be admitted, but he had seen only this solution to achieve his ends.

At this point, almost everything had been taken to save Harry.

At least, that’s what he thought.

_I really hope I’m right…_

“You must be really worried about using that nickname against your boyfriend… I highly doubt he appreciates you using his name and reputation to find out more about him… Is he even aware that you came here?” Theo had jeered, putting his teeth on his lips, visibly delighted to see him so uncomfortable.

Draco had looked at him without blinking, the muscles of his jaw contracting painfully.

“No, of course not…” Theo grinned, stretching out his ever-disturbing smile.

Draco had clenched his teeth, intimating himself to remain calm in front of this fucking prick who had taken a clever pleasure, it seemed, to show him that he had the full power over the situation.

As if Theo had figured it out, he had lowered his eyes to fix the pockets of his trousers, in the very place where Draco’s hands formed fists, stretching his smile again, revealing all his white and perfectly aligned teeth.

_Asshole…_

“Fine. I’m going to be generous in telling you that Potter’s spirit, as devoid of the memories you’re burdened with, is not damaged. The spell was properly cast and if by some miracle you manage to find the one who casted it, it’s a good bet that everything connects properly” Theo had admitted.

Draco had held his breath before this revelation, the heartbeat of his heart accelerating as Theo’s words resounded in the flow of his spirit.

“So there won’t be any complications?” he had asked, not preventing the anxiety from taking part in his tiny hope.

“That’s just my point of view, but from what I could see from reading his mind, no, he won’t have any after-effects” Theo had nodded, a thin smile adorning his lips.

It seemed to Draco that he could finally breathe.

Although Harry was still far from out of the woods, having the near certainty that his mind was in perfect condition and ready to receive all that he had forgotten, had lightened him by an enormous burden on consciousness.

He even allowed himself to sigh, briefly closing his eyes, opening them quickly to avoid the flood of tears that were rising dangerously, feeling all the tension of his body relaxing.

Draco had nodded silently before finally turning heels to go towards the door and leave the office in which he had begun to suffocate.

His hand on the handle, he opened the door and froze for a moment before turning his head slightly to the side.

“Thank you…” he had blew to Theo, before rushing outside without waiting for his answer.

Draco was now heading towards the living room to inquire about Potter’s state of mind before spreading his eyes before the mess that it had become.

Much of the library’s books had been spread on the floor. He figured it out that they had been violently thrown under anger.

All of the ancient books that Draco had taken time to recover, telling about the effects and recipes of potions of all kinds, some specifically about black magic, extremely rare and complicated to realize.

He sighed at what appeared to be Harry’s anxiety attack. He knew his temper, for he often bore the brunt of it when they were younger. Once had been one too many and had almost killing him.

Harry had made various and varied apologies in their seventh year and had continued long after that. He had confessed to him that it was impossible for him to forget the sight of Draco bathed in blood on the white tile, his shirt gradually dyed with hemoglobin, while he watched him die, unable to make the slightest move.

Too much affected by the hatred that had passed through him at that moment and by the use of a spell that he did not know the effects of until he cast it at him.

Afterwards, Harry had somewhat calmed down, controlling to the best of his ability his impulsivity and the anger that animated him, punctuating crises from time to time but nothing that was unmanageable in Draco’s eyes.

Unfortunately, Potter’s behavior was once again as violent as it was when he was in Hogwarts and he had to deal with this aspect of his personality for the second time.

He casted a spell of quick storage, the various books flew away in front of him while resuming their original place in the library, as if nothing had happened.

Draco then undertook to look for Harry, starting with the kitchen, imagining that he might have had a little hunger but here, nothing had been disturbed.

He knocked on the door of the closed bathroom before finally opening it to find that she too was deprived of any Survivor.

Draco therefore went towards the bedroom, frowning to find it resolutely empty. A few folds on the bed suggested that Harry had, however, had to lie there, but he was apparently nowhere.

Draco was convinced he was here, taking care to cast the safety spells to keep him from getting out.

Knowing the maniac, he was convinced that Potter was going to try to escape. When Harry had an idea in his head, there was nothing to dislodge it, nothing to reason with. He was anyway, the least reasonable person Draco ever knew in his life.

He stared at the room, looking at everything in it, in case he missed something that would put him on the runway. His grey eyes landed on the small bottle next to a witch photograph, noticing that it had been uncorked.

His blood gone up into his head when he realized that Potter had found the passage leading to the Pensieve.

_Bloody Potter…_

The room had been well hidden, only he or Harry had access to it, but he never thought he would find it so easily. Potter really had to dig around for the idea of examining the vial.

_Bloody unfettered curiosity…_

He turned swiftly to the door that led to the room gathering all their memories which they had stored, sheltered from powerful legilimens who would have the idea of creeping into their minds.

Draco was surprised to see a majestic misty stag that seemed to guard the entrance. It bowed slightly to greet him, and so did he.

He found bitterly that Harry was still immersed in the Pensieve, destroying a little more his chances of keeping a healthy mind, forcing on the barriers of his thoughts.

Draco rushed to Harry to get him out, but he saw the stag load from the corner of his eye and melt on him. It passed through him, grabbing his breath and then blocking it in his lungs.

A powerful cough prevented him from getting any closer, while Potter still had his face hidden in the silver liquid of the Pensieve.

_Bloody Patronus!_

Draco pointed his wand at the stag while clearing his throat.

“Finite Incantatem” he blew.

The stag disappeared in a volute of smoke, leaving a thick mist hovering in the room behind it.

He then took a deep breath, before putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder to pull him towards him and pull him out once and for all of this bloody Pensieve.

Potter’s face reappeared as his body leaned backwards.

Draco could feel the tension that was pulling all of Harry’s muscles while a dazed look distorted his features.

His erratic breathing filled the walls of the small room, while his eyes seemed screwed on the silver liquid.

Draco glanced sideways at the Pensieve, where two teenagers were looking in front of them, aloft.

Frowning, he then opened wide his eyes, remembering the place and day that Harry had lived through the filaments.

Judging from the open window of the cabinet on the left, Draco deduced that they were Potter’s memories, despite the fact that he too has chosen to cherish this moment of complicity in his own reserve.

Harry blinked, seeming to come to his senses and turned his green gaze completely frightened at him.

Draco frowned again, squeezing his hand a little tighter on Harry’s shoulder, before he shuddered under the pressure of his fingers.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking into Harry’s eyes.

Potter nodded briefly, breathing always quick, seeming in a terrible panic.

Draco waited for him to calm down a little before loosening his hand and finally releasing it, standing straight up and looking down on him.

“You’re perfectly unconscious, you know that?” he hissed, pissed.

“I-”

“Do you realize that if you go into your memories, you risk damaging your brain cells?” Draco added, without letting him finish.

"That’s not-" Harry began, in a hoarse voice.

“There’s no way you’re gonna do that again, you hear me? How many have you looked at?” Draco shouted, in a louder voice.

“But I-”

“How many?!” Draco repeated.

Potter blinked, seeming completely dazzled.

“That’s the only one … I’ve only seen one …” he blew, still looking confused.

“And this will be the last” Draco claimed.

Harry frowned, finally seeming to reconnect with reality.

“Why? You’re afraid that I’ll come across something that I should not?” he asked, with some contempt.

Draco took a deep breath before anchoring his grey eyes in Harry’s green ones.

“Now you’re going to listen to me, Potter, it’s not about coming across on a bad memory that concerns me, but about the fact that you’re going to end up messing with your brain! Do I have to remind you that you had Obliviate and that dug a deep hole in your fucking brain for many years! If you ever want to get back to your memories, try not to mess it up until you do!” he shouted, frustrated.

Harry blinked, seeming surprised.

“I didn’t know it was going to damage my brain” he blew, confused.

“Well, next time, don’t go digging around, it’ll save you from putting yourself in danger again!” Draco hissed, annoyed.

“Yeah, okay, I didn’t know about it, so don’t yell at me!” Harry retorted, rolling his eyes.

“That’s no excuse, you didn’t have to go that far, and by the way, you’ll do me the pleasure of not trashing the living room anymore, Potter, or I promise you’ll deal with me!” Draco replied, glaring at him.

“I’m not afraid of you, Malfoy!” Harry replied, in a deep voice.

“Well, you should! Just because you’re sharing my life now doesn’t mean I can’t face you!” Draco threatened.

“Uh! I’d like to see that!” Potter sneered, crossing his arms on his chest.

“You’ve already seen it! Need I remind you that there was no later than yesterday you found yourself dismally petrified?” Draco jeered, raising an arrogant eyebrow.

“It wasn’t fair, I didn’t have my wand to defend myself!” Harry growled.

“It seems to me you have it now, no? So what are you going to do?” Draco answered, in a scornful tone.

Harry looked at him without blinking.

“I’ve no intention of confronting you, not after what I’ve seen…” he claimed, in a deep tone.

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“How does what you saw stop you, please?” Draco asked.

Potter hesitated for a moment, visibly embarrassed at the turn of the conversation.

“Just because you told me the truth. I never thought you’d be able to, but you were right about seventh year, the Astronomy Tower and-” he interrupted, obviously unable to continue.

Draco relaxed instantly, pleasantly surprised to find that Harry was finally willing to believe him.

It was the first time since he had lost his memories and it was greatly appreciated to see him so convinced.

Draco nodded, satisfied to finally be a considered minimum, although this is still not enough. He stared at him for a while. Harry had turned his head towards the Pensieve, still noticeably troubled by his memory.

Harry looked at it, floating in the volutes of silver smoke, seeming a little lost, probably because he never imagined them to be so complicit.

Draco cleared his throat to get his attention.

“I wish in the future you wouldn’t try to go back into your past like that again. I’ve no desire to have to explain what may have damaged your neural connectors” he said, in his dragging voice.

Harry glanced at him, seeming to have a hard time detaching himself from the vision he had in front of him, but nodded silently.

Draco took his pocket watch out of his pants pocket, checking the time on the dial.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A little bit” Harry admitted, nodding.

Draco stared at him for a few seconds before closing the lid of his watch and putting it away.

“So come on, I’ll make dinner” he ended, turning slightly to indicate exit.

He let Harry pass by, before closing the door, casting a protective spell, in case of that he was considering not listening to him. 'Cause you shouldn’t have fooled yourself, after what Potter saw, he’d probably want to go back…

Reviving his past was unquestionably entertaining, but many wizards became addicted to it. To being absorbed by these remnants of memories, some too addictive, too _real_. Unquestionably distorting their reality, creating a new one, dotted with moments lived to never come out again…

So he maximized his chances to keep Harry from coming back. If the fact that he did not remember anything for ten years made him feel like to have a dagger in the heart, to imagine him killing himself by destroying the rest was all the more painful.

After closing the bottle allowing the door to remain camouflaged, he went to the kitchen, Harry on his heels, to take make the meal.

With a move of his hand, he set the stove on fire, under the impressed gaze of Potter.

He flew a pan which he placed on it with his wand, turning with his free hand the pages of a cookbook before stopping on the one which interested him.

After mumbling a spell, the utensils started to move, cutting, grating the vegetables and meat straight out of the fridge and rushing into the pot to cook slowly.

Harry seemed impressed, following the kitchen tools in their place, the premises of a smile adorning his lips.

_He’s so…_

Draco looked at him tenderly, suppressing the irresistible urge to take him against him. Instead, he took a deep breath and told him where the cutlery was stored, and told him to help him set them up on the table in the center of the room.

Harry took them out without flinching, applying himself to smoothing the tablecloth already in place before arranging the service on it for their dinner.

Draco leaned over the pan, lifting the lid to check that everything was cooking properly, and stirring for a few moments before closing to simmer.

He walked up to one of the many kitchen furniture to take out two glasses and a bottle of wine and then turned to Harry, pointing to the door with his chin and following him to return to the living room.

There, he laid the whole thing, opened the bottle with his wand and enchanted the wine so that it poured itself into the two glasses.

They settled in silence, him in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, while Harry sat on the couch.

He handed one to Harry who, after a slight hesitation, reached out to catch it.

Their fingers grazed, making Potter shudder, who brought his glass to him a little too abruptly, almost spilling it. A slight pink tint colored his cheekbones as he rushed to mask his discomfort by dipping his lips in the beverage.

Draco grinned, rotating the wine in the balloon, tilting his face to sniff the scent and then lifted it up to enjoy the taste. He rolled his tongue inside his mouth to awaken his taste buds and laid his eyes on Harry again. He stared at him curiously, seeming to be looking for something that he couldn’t find, or that he never thought he would find in Draco, he didn’t know too much.

Draco smiled, raising his eyebrows encouraging him to share what he was thinking. Harry blinked, quickly turning away from his face, visibly unaware that he was staring at it intensely and concentrated on a corner of the coffee table before taking another sip of wine.

Seeing that he would not decide to engage in conversation, Draco devoted himself, clearing his throat to give himself the courage to begin.

“How was it with Theo?” he asked abruptly, the question burning his lips.

Of course, he already had a vague idea of what happened there, but he wanted to know Harry’s version and especially what he thought of his old roommate.

Harry shrugged his shoulders without looking at him.

“As boring as I hoped” he mumbled while looking at the bottom of his glass.

“And more explicitly?” Draco jeered, in a grin.

Harry sighed as he looked up to the sky and laid them on a painting that decorated the living room.

“I don’t see how this therapy is gonna help me get my memories back” he groaned, unquestionably bored.

Draco stared at him for a few seconds before answering him.

“It serves you to apprehend their return and to prepare your mind to welcome them” he explained, in a calm and posed voice.

“Yeah, well, that’s not really how it felt” Harry blew, shaking his head.

“Maybe you’re not focused enough” Draco replied.

A bitter smile stretched Potter’s lips, as he lowered his eyes to his hands, the fingers of which he groped, still holding his glass.

“Or, Nott is a fucking asshole and besides selling me his science infuses and belittle me, he works in no way for that purpose” he retorted, cynically.

“Theo is an excellent wizard therapist, he is the most gifted of his generation” Draco claimed, staring at Harry.

Potter’s grin widened as he laid his beautiful green eyes in his own, arrogantly.

_Merlin, his eyes…_

“You say that because he was a Slytherin and as a good old classmate you take his side” he winced.

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow before taking a sip of wine that he savored a few moments before deigning to reply.

“It’s never about that. To tell you the truth, Theo was never really my friend. He was never anyone I liked hanging out with. I’m not even sure that I ever saw him close to any of his friends. He wasn’t the type to mix with others and spent most of his time in the library studying his bloody books” he said, in a dragging tone.

Harry looked thinking.

"A bit like Hermione at the very beginning" he said.

Draco nodded, still staring at him.

“Likely. I honestly doubt that he’s had any friends in the past and it’s a safe bet that is still the case today. He’s one of those people who doesn’t need anyone to move on in life. A kind of hardened loner” he assumed, remembering Theo’s attitude in the past.

Harry nodded, taking another sip of the beverage.

“Nevertheless, you must continue to see him, it’s important that you keep in mind that although his way of doing things displeases you, it really acts on your mind” Draco added, in a serious tone.

Harry shrugged lazily.

“If you say so, but I’m absolutely not convinced” he sighed.

“I don’t doubt it, but trust Hermione’s judgment, because she contacted him.” Draco added, placing his glass on the coffee table before settling comfortably in the back of his chair.

Harry opened wide his eyes.

“Since when Hermione make a deal with the Slytherins?” he asked, undoubtedly troubled by this latest information.

“Probably since she realized they weren’t all as bad as she and you thought they were back then” Draco jeered, in a grin.

Potter gauged him for a moment before turning his eyes away from his glass, which he laid down in his turn, to fit completely into the couch.

“I have vaguely been able to see it, yeah…” he mumbled, as he crossed his arms on his chest, the discomfort again present in his voice.

Draco’s smile widened and became softer, with his heart beating louder in his chest.

“Thank you” he blew, a ball forming in his throat, preventing him from swallowing properly.

“For what?” Harry asked, frowning.

“To believe me after everything that’s happened to you. I know it’s not obvious given the situation but I really appreciate you considering that I’m telling you the truth” Draco replied, with a voice full of feelings which he tried to suppress as he could.

Harry glanced at him slightly before imperceptibly shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s just what I think. And after what I’ve seen, I can’t think otherwise” he admitted.

"I know" Draco assured with a smile.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I know what you saw and you never knew how to lie, so I know you’re telling the truth. Thank you also for your frankness” Draco sneered, revealing her white teeth in a sincere smile.

Harry seemed to be tense as he opened his eyes before turning his head sharply to the side, indisputably embarrassed by the slightly pinkish hue on his face.

_And it’s certainly not the wine…_

The significant noise of a floo call made them turn to the hearth to find out who wished to speak to them.

Blaise’s face appeared in the middle of the green smoke, his beautiful almond eyes immediately landed on Draco and a slight smirk stretched his lips.

“Hi Draco” he said, with his manipulative look, before turning his head to Harry, “Potter” he added, nodding.

“Blaise? What is this impromptu visit worth?” Draco asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

Potter, for his part, frowned without deigning to answer the young man.

Blaise’s smile grew while his eyes sparkled with malice.

“Just a courtesy call, that’s all. But judging from the tone of your voice, I feel like I’m not welcome?” he replied, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

_That’s all we need…_

Draco sniffed before taking a look at Harry, who stared at Blaise, squinting his eyes, visibly suspicious.

“Let’s say the timing is rather bad, yeah… Some complications about Harry”, he suddenly became tense, “Potter! I mean about _Potter_!” he immediately added, glaring anxiously at Harry, who, fortunately for him, was far too busy staring at Blaise to feel troubled.

Blaise’s face lit up as a smirk gradually stretched his lips, revealing his white teeth denoting the dark color of his skin.

“Don’t tell me more, I’ve always been fond of complicated situations, I’ve been so bored since Pansy went on a business trip so, I’m not gonna miss an opportunity to come bother you when it’s the most interesting thing I have” he claimed.

Draco wanted to reply, but Blaise’s silhouette materialized before he even had time to prevent it.

Blaise was impeccably dressed, as usual, standing upright and princely, gauging them with his cold, arrogant look, although a light, amused grin was painted on the corner of his lips.

He was taller than Draco was, and it made him very annoyed, because he was generally quite proud of his height and felt almost inferior when he was close to the young man.

Draco got up to give him a friendly hug before pointing the second armchair near the fireplace.

As if to antagonize him, Blaise settled on the couch beside Potter who tensed up and shifted on the edge to remain as far back as possible from him, looking down on him.

Blaise, if he had noticed Potter’s strange behavior, did not show any, and invoked a glass and poured out wine which he immediately took to his mouth to drink a long sip.

Draco rolled his eyes seeing his friend makes himself at home. A friend, whom he did not consider as such a few years ago. It was only after Pansy began to associate with him, until he became her boyfriend, and finally shared her life with him, that he made the effort to consider him other than a rival.

In Hogwarts already, he was the closest to his fame in the House of Slytherin. He had a very similar presence to his, an undeniable attraction to manipulate others, and his grin was almost as bad as his at the time when he used it to destabilize other students who bothered him.

He had always thought that Blaise was trying to looks like him in order to take his place among their fellow men, wanting at all costs to crush him in order to form an image of a powerful prince that no one could dethrone.

In hindsight, Draco was convinced that this was exactly what he was waiting for, but despite the fact that he had a strong penchant for power, he did not have his temper and, in all modesty, was not as smart as he was.

“So, tell me everything! What complications are we talking about, exactly?” Blaise asked, crossing his legs, one of his feet resting carelessly on one of his knees, while his arm lay on the back of the couch.

Draco gave him a short summary of the situation, telling him the broad strokes under the black eye of Harry, obviously unwilling to let Blaise know about his little _Obliviate_ ’s problem.

“All his memories?” Blaise surprised, turning his face to Potter to stare at him.

“No, only the last ten years of his life” Draco explained, in his dragging voice.

Blaise made a long whistle and grinned to Harry.

“Well, Potter, you’re still good at shit!” he jeered.

Harry glared at him before stretching a smirk.

“Calm down, Zabini, because the only memory I have of you is your smug and disdainful side that even with the years apparently has no intention of leaving your dirty, little motherfucking face!” he shouted, wincing.

Blaise sneered before drinking a sip of wine and then put it on the coffee table.

“Your cheeky side is even more accentuated with screw loose, you had been a little calmer with the time. I feel like I’m back with the Potter of my childhood!” he noticed.

"I’m sorry for that," Harry replied falsely contrite.

“Oh don’t be, really, I really appreciate this aspect of your personality, it gives me the right to be as unpleasant as you!” Blaise replied, in a grin.

_Oh fuck…_

Harry stared at him before grinning.

“Great, ‘cause I’d no intention of being nice to someone like you” he replied.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, in a perfect imitation of Draco and gave him back his smile, his brown eyes in almond shining malice.

“My fears dissolve!” he sneered.

Draco sighed before clearing his throat to get their attention.

“At the risk of cutting you off in this outpouring of sympathy of yours, I would like to point out that you, Blaise, are supposed to like Harry now, and you, Potter, you still don’t know him well enough to talk to him that way so if you could calm down the level of your sarcasm it would be greatly appreciated and I thank you” he hissed, in his dragging voice.

They glanced at him before staring at each other again.

"It might be difficult" Harry winced, looking deeply disgust.

“Yeah, it’s going to be very complicated” Blaise nodded, biting his lower lip.

Draco rolled his eyes before glaring at them.

“It’ll be as I said and not otherwise”

A silence settled for a few moments, before Blaise resumed speaking.

“Who is his shrink? I think he has one since his neurons are gone to take the air” he asked, turning at Draco.

“My memories… My neurons are in their place” Harry hissed, giving Blaise a wicked gaze.

“If you like to think that” he sneered, giving him a glimpse before turning his attention to Draco.

Although less clever, Blaise was still an intelligent person and Draco was not surprised that his former roommate guessed the presence of a shrink in Potter’s healing protocol.

It was evident that his refined mind had very quickly made the link between Potter’s memory and the risks of such a loss in someone’s life.

“Theodore Nott” Draco replied.

Blaise raised his eyebrows very high before bending over to take his glass in hand.

“Seriously? Good old Theo? I am not even surprised that he chose this path, it is certainly the one that suits him best. Manipulating people was one of his favorite hobbies” he noticed while drinking a sip of wine.

"Is this not the one proper to the Slytherins?" Harry tempted, with a malicious smile on his lips.

Draco sighed and could not suppress the wicked gaze he gave Harry.

Blaise, for his part, raised an amused eyebrow before grinned.

“You’re not entirely wrong, Potter, but Theo excelled in this field, far more than all Slytherins put together. By the way, your level wasn’t the worst Draco” he admitted.

“Thank you Blaise, it’s obvious that I needed someone to remind me how much I was a fan of this kind of occupation” Draco jeered, with his dragging voice while grinning of his former comrade.

“It was never a secret to anyone and at the time you’re openly boasting about it” Blaise sneered.

“I know that all too well, but I’ve changed now and I’d like to leave behind the bastard I may have been to the benefit of the person I have become today, if you don’t mind” he winced, rubbing the edge of his nose.

“Fine, but you’ll always be the pretentious little prick who shared seven years of my life in Hogwarts!” Blaise sneered.

_Merlin, he can be annoying!_

“And so do you!” Draco retorted, in a smirk.

“You really have a special way of saying that you care about each other… All in sarcasm, rather than being honest about how you feel” Harry noticed, frowning.

“Yeah, habits have a hard life” Blaise confessed, giving him a friendly shot in the shoulder.

“Yes, probably” Potter replied, sarcastically, massaging the place where Blaise’s fist had struck.

“Going back to Theo, I don’t know him any more than that, but I valued him for what he is, an equal, descended from a long line of pure bloods like many of our comrades in our old house” Draco added, staring at Harry.

“That’s what he reminds me of” Blaise nodded, emptying his drink.

“For my part, I don’t know him at all and I don’t care at all that he is part of a line of pure bloods, as long as I've seen him, I don’t like him at all, his behavior disgusts me to death” Harry hissed, staring at him.

“He often does that the first time. You’ll get used to it, anyway you don’t really have a choice” Blaise jeered, in a grin.

“Thanks for reminding me” Harry groaned, with a wicked smile.

"At your service" Blaise replied, bowing with a move of the hand.

Draco repressed a smile in front of Harry’s vexed face before taking out his watch to see the time.

“Are you joining us for dinner?” he asked, raising an eyebrow to his former classmate.

“It’d have been a great pleasure, but I think I’ve bothered you enough. Now that I’ve fulfilled my duty, I’ll let you end the evening in _love_ ” Blaise replied, throwing a malicious smile at Potter, who shuddered at the term used, before blushing slightly and finally rising.

“I’ll make dinner” Harry mumbled, heading into the kitchen without bothering to fire Blaise.

Draco stood up and laid his hand on Blaise’s shoulder to thank him for his unexpected visit.

Blaise answered him in a grin before grasping the floo powder in the terracotta pot near the hearth.

He was about to throw it when he turned to give him a serious gaze.

“For what it’s worth, if you need to talk or just drown your grief in a good, pure fire whiskey, you know where to find me” he said, anchoring his black eyes in his owns

Draco grinned.

"I didn’t expect so much from you" he jeered, raising an eyebrow.

Blaise shrugged his shoulders.

“We’ve all more or less changed over time, believe it” he admitted.

Draco looked at him without blinking and then nodded.

“Likely”

Without a word more, Blaise went into the fireplace and left where he came from, leaving him alone in the living room still a little stunned by their last exchange.

He and Blaise had never been very close, but had learned to appreciate each other over the years by rubbing shoulders. He was grateful to Pansy for falling in love with the young man to count him in his friends today. The list was not the longest… Only Ron and Hermione and of course _Harry_ were part of it.

Draco had abandoned the rest of his family at the end of the war, denied his father’s evil inclinations, abandoned his mother to regret but she was not ready to leave his father, so he could only keep her in his heart.

A little tinkling on the window pane brought him to his senses, and he rushed to open the little owl which rushed into the room. It had a simple letter with the words “ _For Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy_ ” on the front of the paper.

Draco unfolded the scroll, comforting, not surprisingly, Ron’s writing inside.

> _Harry, Draco,_
> 
> _I’m really sorry I didn’t stop by today, I hope everything’s going well?_
> 
> _I have some news about our case, and I can’t talk about it in the letter in case it’s intercepted, but I’ll come by tomorrow and tell you more._
> 
> _Harry, I promise we’ll get you out of this shit, mate!_
> 
> _I’ll be there by the end of the morning, Hermione’s not sure she can make it, but she’ll do what she can._
> 
> _Draco, thank you again for being here for Harry… I don’t know what we would do without you…_
> 
> _See ya,_
> 
> _R.W_

He folded the letter back before taking a heavy step towards the kitchen and was surprised to find Harry serving the stew in the plates arranged by their care on the table before Blaise’s intrusion.

"Hey, 'got Ron’s news. He’s coming tomorrow morning" Draco said, handing him the letter.

Harry immediately grabbed it, making his eyes run out on the paper to read the few lines of his friend.

Draco settled down on one of the chairs, sniffing the still smoking dish he had before his eyes.

Potter ended up sitting down too, putting the parchment beside him before sticking his incredible green eyes in his own.

Draco’s heart missed a beat in front of the intensity of his eyes. Even after the years, they had always had that effect on him. From the first time they met, he had felt engulfed by the bright emerald gaze when he was only eleven years old.

Harry had the power to completely drown him, just laying his eyes on him. It was horribly destabilizing. At the time, he hated him for it, now, although he found it annoying to be trapped by a simple glance, he would give everything to contemplate this eyes until the last day of his life.

‘Cause it was the eyes of the one he loved, because it was Potter and nothing had animated him as he had done. As he continued to do… And even then, despite the lack of memories that might remind him of how much he loved him too…

_Just beautiful…_

As if he had heard it, Potter swallowed hard before coughing, his cheeks slightly dyed as he diverted his hypnotic eyes to place them on his plate.

Draco raised his eyebrows at the pronounced discomfort Potter seemed to feel. This was not the first time since the beginning of the evening. To think about it, it began just after it had been removed from the memory in which he was immersed. Draco had immediately noticed how embarrassed Harry had seemed to discover this moment of his past.

“I’m sorry for Blaise’s inconvenient visit, I didn’t expect him to stick around like this.” he pouting, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s not your fault if he likes to meddle in other people’s business…” he mumbled, mixing his food with his fork.

Draco grinned.

“Oh, it’s one of his specialties, always present when you least expect it! One could almost consider it a talent!” he sneered, cutting his meat.

He thought he saw the outline of a smile on Potter’s lips, a small victory for Draco who had not seen a single one except those filled with scorn appear on his face.

He looked away at Potter’s hand, resting on the table next to his plate. He moved his hand towards it with some apprehension, his heart beating hardly in his chest at the thought of being able to touch him.

"I promise you, we’ll do everything we can to get your memories back as soon as possible" he whispered, when he finally put his palm on Potter’s hand.

He felt Harry tense under his fingers, but despite the fact that he seemed strained by their pressure, he did not move, leaving his hand firmly on the table.

Potter nodded almost imperceptibly before turning his eyes on their folded hands. He stared at them with a certain intensity, seeming to see nothing else but them.

Draco could feel the warmth of Harry against his palm and he had great difficulty not to hold it tighter. Instead, and because the temptation became too strong, as he kept it in his, he stroked the back of Potter’s hand, gently. Feeling the grain of the soft epidermis under the skin of his thumb made rough by his manual work of making potions, was a little happiness that he no longer believed possible yesterday.

Potter seemed as if hypnotized by his gesture, his hand did not move but Draco could guess how difficult it was for him to breathe, seeing his chest rise painfully, like his own was struggling to get air into his lungs.

Then, after a few long minutes though too short in his humble opinion, Potter finally freed his hand and brought it back to his bust, where he squeezed his shirt with his fingers.

He still stared at it as if it were burning him where Draco’s thumb had caressed him.

Draco slipped his own along the table, observing Potter’s emerging anxiety, and brought it back to his plate to grab the edges and continued his meal.

“Just a reflex” he agreed to explain, to ease the heavy discomfort.

Harry slowly looked up to look at him and Draco felt once again lost in mind by the intensity of his green eyes. Then, still with a marked slowness, Potter lowered his gaze on his plate and resumed his meal where he had left it.

They ate in silence, both too disturbed to dare to break it. Draco struggled to calm the beating of his heart, which seemed to resonate on all the walls of the room, beginning with his ears, to the point of covering the noises of cutlery scraping food.

Then it came time to leave the table, Potter devoted himself to clearing out while Draco took advantage of it to go and freshen up in the bathroom. He opened the sink’s cold water tap, bending his hands underneath to collect enough before plunging his face into his palms to enjoy the freshness.

Draco then raised his head to observe his tired and sad features reflected in the mirror hanging from the wall, telling him that he would need much more to calm the tension that had been running through his body from the moment Harry let him touch him.

Abandoning his reflection, he turned his heels to head for the shower, opening the hot water tap before beginning to undress.

Once fully naked, he climbed into the bathtub and let the hot stream of water scald his skin before regulating the temperature until it was satisfactory. He closed his eyes, to appreciate the effects on his body, feeling his muscles loosen under the benefits of heat.

He took care of washing himself generously with his shower gel, rubbing his hair to massage his scalp, giving a feeling of comfort that he had not felt for two days.

Once rinsed, he passed a towel around his waist that he tied, taking a second to rub his hair before leaving the bathroom to head to the bedroom.

Passing through the kitchen, he noticed that Potter had washed everything, plates and cutlery resting on the edge of the sink draining.

He was amazed to see the door of the bedroom half-open.

Draco walked cautiously towards her, taking part in knocking on it before opening it larger when Potter replied.

Harry was already in his pajamas and lying on the bed, a book on Quidditch in his hands. Draco took the opportunity to open the drawer where his clothes were, all tidy and folded to perfection to get out a fine pajamas.

He felt the look of Potter burning his neck and after a brief hesitation, turned to face him. Harry was actually staring at him, lingering on his pale chest, looking down to his abs, lowered a little further before stopping on the knot formed by the towel.

Potter’s cheeks were slightly colored before his eyes went up, until they deviated on his left arm and sprang in amazement.

"Your arm" he blew.

Draco followed his look before raising an eyebrow.

Potter looked up to him, a mixture of surprise and incomprehension shining in his green eyes.

"Where’s the mark?" he added in a colder tone.

Draco frowned before fixing his immaculate arm again, devoid of any mortuary tattoo.

“I told you, Potter, I’m not a Death Eater” he said, in a dragging tone.

Harry blinked several times, staring back at his arm, naked with every Dark Mark, before sticking them in his grey eyes.

“I don’t understand…” he said, seeming completely lost.

Draco looked at him without blinking, knowing full well that Potter had always considered him a Death Eater at the time.

Since their seventh year, the case had been undeniably resolved once his trial had passed where his arm had been widely exposed before all the eyes of the members of the Wizengamot and to those of Harry who had opened wide, as they had done a few moments ago.

“Voldemort only marked those he considered to be in his ranks. I have never been more than a pawn in his eyes. That’s why I never received the mark” he explained, in a perfectly calm tone.

Harry let himself fall on the blankets, sinking his shoulders, releasing his book where his hands had become tense since he had outrageously fixed him.

“I was so convinced that you were one of them…” he blew, his head down, seeming almost ashamed to have imagined for a moment what he was.

Draco could not repress a smirk adorning his lips in front of Harry’s sheepish look, remembering that he had the same when he was accused when he was 17.

Harry had nevertheless come to plead for his cause, recounting the fact that he had no doubt that Draco had no choice but to rally with the Dark Lord. Draco was surprised to learn that Potter knew that his life and that of his parents would cost him if he did not fulfill his mission.

Nevertheless, when he had rolled up his shirt sleeve in front of the many politicians who held his future in their hands, he had been pleasantly satisfied to see the eyes of the boy-who-survived opened wide in front of his immaculate arm.

He even remembered having sketched a victorious little grin of having succeeded in destabilizing the hero of wizard world, he who had spent seven fucking years making him feel so little in control of himself by his many feats.

“I have never been one, Potter, but no one could blame you for having thought of it…” he said before putting on the top of his pajamas to hide the object of the discomfort that weighed between them.

Harry pinched his lips, nodding, looking away from the sleeve that now covered his arm and placing it on his grey eyes.

“I’m sorry I did it…” he said in a determined tone.

Draco stared at him for a moment before shrugging his shoulders as if his words were not important, but his heart pounded in his chest as they sounded in echo in his ears.

"Rest now" he replied, concluding the conversation before closing the drawer and starting to walk to the door to escape the irresistible urge to hold him.

"Thank you" Harry said.

Draco froze and slowly turned his head towards him, becoming more tensed up when he saw that he was staring at him without blinking.

“For what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry took a deep breath before answering.

“To be so patient… I never imagined you to be so” he said, hiding the trouble in his voice with difficulty.

A tender smile stretched Draco’s lips, guessing the effort that cost him to admit that Draco had really taken upon him during the last two days.

“I’m not, it’s just because it’s about you,” he replied.

Harry opened wide his eyes, visibly shocked by his frankness, and then nodded before resuming his reading, his hands again tense on his book.

Draco took the time to stare at him, happy with the small advance they had gained in only one late evening. He had not expected so much from the Harry of his past, but Potter was unquestionably unpredictable and would never cease to surprise him as he lived with him.

So it was quite naturally, with this feeling of deep love that he brought out in him that he let slip these few words.

"Good night, Harry," he said before snapping at him for saying Potter’s first name, preparing to immediately correct his stupidity of his bloody brain.

_Fuck!_

But before he could repair his impulse of feelings, Potter’s voice resounded in the room, making him tenser to make him close his eyes expecting the scathing reply he knew.

"You too" Harry replied, softly.

Draco opened his eyes sharply to lay them upon him, stunned by the soft tone of his voice.

His heart missed a beat, Potter’s last words echoing those that were still echoing in his mind.

Potter had just let him call him _Harry_ …

Potter didn’t freak out about mentioning his first name when he implicitly asked Draco not to call him that again.

Harry definitely had a knack for making him lose his mind, whether or not he was without his memories, he was still the most amazing man Draco had ever met.

And every day, he was grateful to fate for putting him on his way...

The man who shared his life…

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to regain a capacity, swallowing his saliva with difficulty, and then slowly exited the room before closing the door behind him.

_Fuck, Weasley, I hope the news is good…_


	5. Corrupt

White. Maybe cream? He couldn’t say for sure when he’d been staring at the ceiling for ages.

Harry was lying in the bed, _his_ bed... _their_ bed?

He frowned, disturbed by the pronoun he had to use to signify the mattress he was in.

He had struggled to fall asleep, and was not entirely sure that he had really succeeded. Harry remembered turning several times in his half-sleep, seeking to free his mind from incongruous feelings that seemed to want to slip into his thoughts.

Troubled, was the closest thing to what he felt. With his eyes firmly fixed on this bloody ceiling of an indefinable color, he could not understand, could no longer manage to unravel the truth of the false in all this heap of emotions.

Did he really feel that way the night before?

Did he really feel _anything_ for Malfoy?

Could he really call it that? Was it the right term to express what Malfoy brought to the very core of his being?

_That memory…_

Harry would never have imagined it possible to simply discuss with Malfoy, without aggression, only with words devoid of animosity.

There had been a few scathing remarks, but these were strangely reminiscent of humour or concealed compliments.

_“Your eyes are surely by far what I’d remember about you”_

Harry felt himself blush at the hint that Malfoy had confessed to his past self. The slow beats of his heart redoubled in intensity as he remembered these few words spoken.

He had saw himself puzzled in his memory but nothing that put him in the state he was in right now.

_“It’s your way of making me exist through your words”_

Harry squeezed his cover between his fingers, thinking back to his past self’s sentence, because it was true. Malfoy had a way of making him feel alive, exulting countless feelings when he spoke to him.

_“You’ve always exhumed what I felt deep inside, even what bothered me and you’re the only one today to achieve this”_

There too, it was true…

Malfoy was the only one to get him to blow for a yes or a no, even when it was far beyond reason. Harry was always ready to answer to Malfoy, to punish him for spitting or simply to pour his hatred too long contained on someone, anyone, and it happened to be him quite often.

And then there had been dinner…

All these sensations that had stimulated him, when Malfoy had laid his hand on his, the warmth of his palm sending tingling against his skin. If he hadn’t taken it off, he was convinced it would have been burned.

Harry had wanted to save his hand, because it burned him, where Malfoy had touched him… Even after removing it, it still radiated, the warmth still present on the back of his hand, troubling him all the more if he had just laying it there.

All Malfoy’s efforts to be particularly attentive, his maturity far too present both in his remarks and in his way of treating him disturbed Harry just as much. He saw that the years had passed painfully… The sixteen-year-old Malfoy was not so understanding, it was by far a good rot to be cropped.

Closing his eyes, his chest contracted to this thought. Everything was so much simpler when it still was. Harry could still hate him, curse him like he had always did.

But now…

Could he even do it?

_Do I even want to?_

He pinched his lips as a pain passed through his heart imagining himself continuing to hate the Malfoy from the present. This Malfoy, so patient, so… nice…

_“I’m not, it’s just because it’s about you,”_

A new contraction compressed his chest making him tighten his grip on the sheets, blocking his breathing for a few seconds. He hardly swallowed his saliva before exhaling deeply, clenching his teeth to the inevitable.

Too many feelings were intertwined in him and he could not detect his own, of those, so powerful, of his own today.

Because it was inevitable, and he was lying when he tried to push them away.

But _this_ Harry loved him… This Harry was _in love_ with Malfoy…

He disrupted the sixteen-year-old Harry who fought to keep his own feelings, seeking to get over that terrible passion that he desperately wanted to keep from feeling. Annihilating his chances of invading him, to engulf him and never let him go again.

Because he didn’t want to. No, he didn’t…

Did he want to?

With rage, he kicked the blankets, uncovering his torso and the top of his thighs, the sheets slipping from the fingers that held them against him.

Harry flattened his hands on his face, bringing them back to his hair, pressing his palms on his forehead, elbows in the air.

He was fiddling with his brain trying to find himself in the midst of this too full of emotions.

The anger he felt was so strong that he could cry, but there’s no point in letting go.

_What is the point?_

There was nothing to do but wait for the solution to come to him.

There too, he wanted to strike to express his frustration at being set aside for something that concerned him.

Why had he not become Auror as he had always claimed to want to become one?

He felt useless, lying in his... in this _fucking_ bed waiting like a soul in pain to be delivered from his punishment, when he could have helped Ron find what he was looking for.

Bloody hell, those were his memories we were talking about!

He had the right to interfere in missions, he was the first one involved, for fuck’s sake!

A book fell from the shelf in front of him, startling him sharply.

He stood up and sat on the mattress, leaning with his arms to support himself and tried to calm down.

Harry knew that he had the annoying habit of – _too much_ – externalizing everything and had repeatedly let his emotions get the better of him, to the point of furiously regretting some of his actions under their control.

He took a deep breath, blocking it in his lungs, trying to make the emptiness in his too eventful mind and slowly exhaled after a few seconds.

Looking up at the clock hanging on the wall, he agreed to get up and get dressed.

A good shower would set him straight. He needed it, terribly…

Opening the drawers of the dresser, he took at random the clothes that appeared in front of his eyes, opting for a black sweater and dark blue jeans.

Facing the door, he fixed it for a few moments before resigning himself to opening it. The risk that he would run into Malfoy at the very moment he was leaving his… _the_ room was almost inevitable, but he didn’t.

The living room was incredibly empty, not the shadow of a breakfast as the day before had been laid on the coffee table, waiting wisely to be tasted.

Harry even found himself wondering where Malfoy could be, mortifying himself to want to look for him to make sure he didn’t leave.

When he reached the kitchen, the table had been arranged but nothing had yet been prepared.

He walked down the small hallway that separated the entrance from the rest of the house and walked towards the bathroom in the intention to wash himself to forget his obsession with looking for his bloody roommate.

With his hand on the handle, he opened the door in a flash and froze before he had time to go in.

He fell face to face with an immaculate white torso, almost unreal pale. If he hadn’t seen it the day before, he might have convinced himself that he imagined it.

Inexplicably blocking on this too white skin, whose texture seemed to be so soft to the touch, he blinked his eyes to lift them up on those of his owner who stared at him through the mirror reflecting his fine face and his denatured grey orbs.

Harry swallowed with difficulty, his saliva forcing painfully to find the way in his throat.

His heart was already beating too fast filled with the vision before him.

He could not prevent his eyes from traveling on the details of his face, the few blond strands carefully brought back to the temples, framing Malfoy’s gaze, always resting on him, making it stand out more dim than it was. His lips were half-open, and his teeth were perfectly aligned. Harry looked down, exploring his chin and Adam’s apple, looking at his square shoulders, which were straight in shape. He stopped, however, when he fell on the bust underlining his pectorals and his pimples of flesh have hardened.

Harry passed his tongue over his lips, his blood buzzing in his ears without him understanding the reason.

He lowered his gaze again on Malfoy’s belly, frowned when he crossed the few even whiter scars that sweep his skin, assuming war wounds as it was provided on his own body.

Blinking, he felt blushed by his similar behavior of the day before, when he had already felt attracted by the sight of Malfoy’s body.

Realizing that it was ridiculous to block so on the silhouette of his roommate, he turned away his eyes, squeezing harder the handle in his hand, making the knuckles of his fingers bleach.

“Sorry… I-” he babbled, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, you can go, I’m done” Malfoy replied as he turned to him with a smile.

Harry glanced at him slightly and tensed up again when he fell on his immaculate arm, remembering their last discussion.

He pinched his lips, wrinkling his eyes like he was trying to get through the epidermis to make sure there was nothing to hide.

Without paying more attention to him, Malfoy grabbed the shirt hanging on the edge of the shower before gracefully donning it and meticulously closing the buttons.

Finishing buttoning the last one, Malfoy raised his head, raising an eyebrow in front of the surely suspicious look that Harry had to show and opened his mouth.

“I’m going to make breakfast, Ron should be here any minute” he said, before moving in his direction.

Their shoulders grazed as he passed by his side, the contact making them both flinch. Harry caught himself inhaling the smell that reached his nostrils, no doubt the perfume of Malfoy which he recognized for having already felt it while they were Side-Along, slapping himself mentally for doing such a thing.

He clenched his fists along his flanks before turning to close the door, locking it to make sure he had all his privacy.

He stood still for a moment, staring at the void without really seeing it, and then decided to slowly undress and step over the bathtub to wash. Turning the hot water tap, he let the water run smoothly, performing mechanical gestures, desperately seeking to escape the guilt that was gnawing at him.

Seeing Malfoy in these conditions after trying to put words into what he was feeling only reinforced his feeling of discomfort. Greatly blurring the emotions that overwhelmed him as soon as he was by his side.

Harry threw his head back, pinching his lips, before finally closing his eyes to the overwhelming pain that forced the barriers of his mind.

He had always believed that Malfoy bore the Dark Mark. He had been persuaded that Voldemort had made him one of his Death Eaters, and seeing how wrong he was only adding another feeling to those who were swirling furiously inside him.

Harry scoffed bitterly at all the times he had spied on Malfoy in the past to find out if he was indeed burdened by it. His last memory was to have followed with eyes the point whose name "Draco Malfoy" was moving on the Marauder’s map, with the firm intention of figuring out what he was about to do.

He squeezed the head of the shower tightly into his hands, before sending one of his fists against the wall tiled with fury.

So much time wasted trying to prove that he was right. So many times he had insisted to Ron and Hermione about that bloody mark on Malfoy’s arm when it wasn’t.

_Fucking idiot!_

Why did it have to be false?

Why was fate once again trying to prove him wrong?

His hand hurt him as it was still closed against the wall, a few tingles mingling with the pain, pulsating from the place that had hit the tile.

Gently loosening his fingers, he winced when he felt a slight scrape foretelling him that he must have damaged his skin. He brought his hand back to him, and examined the cut in the corner of his palm, and then turned his eyes to the wall to see that a few drops of blood were spreading there, just where a small crack had formed.

He thoroughly flushed out the hemoglobin that was rapidly escaping from his wound before continuing to wash to erase the last traces of his thoughts.

Once completely clean and dressed, he went out into the small hallway and frowned when noises in the living room caught his attention.

Judging by the voices that came from it, Ron must have already arrived and he rushed to welcome him, too happy to find back his best friend.

Ron was actually already sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, sipping a cup of tea in discussion with Malfoy sitting on the couch.

When he entered the room, Ron turned his eyes to him and welcomed him with a broad smile before rising to take him in his arms.

“How are you, mate?” he asked, tapping his shoulder.

“Like someone with amnesia…” Harry replied, with a bitter smile.

Malfoy snorted before drinking a sip of tea, obviously uncomfortable.

Ron pinched his lips in a desolate pout before sighing and sitting down, his azure blue eyes anchored in Harry’s emerald green.

“Yeah… Speaking of which, as I explained to Draco, I have some important news to tell you.” He exclaimed, in a deep voice.

In front of his best friend’s serious face, Harry sat down on the couch without taking into account the fact that he was sticking his thigh against Malfoy’s, too attentive to what Ron had to teach them. He vaguely felt Malfoy tense at his side, but remained resolutely focused on Ron in front of him.

Malfoy bent over to place his cup on the coffee table, rubbing his leg against Harry’s, sending him shivers that made him flinch and finally consider his position.

Harry moved slightly to the side with his hands, before groaning when he pressed his wound, bringing it back before his eyes.

He felt Malfoy’s gaze upon him and the closeness made him blushed.

“Did you get hurt?” Malfoy asked, leaning his face towards Harry’s hand to see if it was serious.

Harry pinned his arm against his belly, thus hiding the scratch before answering him.

“It’s nothing, my hand just slipped” he said, without looking at him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy come closer to grasp his arm with delicacy and pull it up to him.

Harry allowed himself to be disturbed by Malfoy’s gentle gestures as he turned his palm to examine it. He could not help deflecting his gaze at his roommate’s face, concentrating on his task.

Malfoy frowned, gently pressing the wound with his thin fingers, before taking out his wand and pointing it at it.

Harry tensed up slightly but caught himself not panicking, as if he suspected that Malfoy meant him no harm. And that was the case, he knew it, he felt it.

He didn’t know how to explain it, but as soon as Malfoy laid his eyes on him, he could feel how much he wanted only good for him. Seeing Malfoy so involved in a simple scratch left him perplexed. As if watching him worry for so little showed him how much he had changed, how much he considered him.

“ _Episkey_ ” made Malfoy’s dragging voice, while a small white light came out of his wand and reached his wound which closed immediately.

Harry raised eyebrows, admiring the place where his previously damaged hand no longer had a scratch.

Nevertheless, he became tense, feeling the fingers of Malfoy loose his palm by fondling it gently, barely a slight touch, but enough that his heart began to beat louder under the softness of his skin against his own.

Harry blinked and closed his hand before putting it on his thigh, with a clenched fist and jerky breathing.

He focused his attention on Ron, who had recovered his cup of tea, drinking a new sip before smiling at him again.

“So, what did you learn?” Harry asked, his voice a bit broken by emotion.

The corners of Ron’s lips sagged slightly before he cleared his throat to respond.

“We’re pretty sure we found the hideout of the Death Eaters” he announced, in a serious tone.

Harry opened wide his eyes, opening his mouth, surprised as his whole body became tense.

“Really?” Malfoy asked, that he felt rising at his side.

“Where are they?” Harry added, in a raw tone, eager to learn more.

Ron pinched the lips before biting the one on the bottom.

“They are no longer in England,” he said in a lower tone.

Harry stood up abruptly and clenched his fists.

“What? What do you mean? Where did they go?” he asked, unable to calm himself before the confession of his friend.

“We think they’re in France, apparently they spotted us and ended up running away” Ron scolded, snapping his tongue on the top of his mouth, visibly annoyed by the turn of things.

“But you said you found their hideout?” Harry replied, louder, the hope he felt at the announcement of the probable arrest of those responsible for his amnesia went up in smoke.

Ron sighed while surreptitiously closing his eyes, reopening them to place his cup on the coffee table and attach his hands to his thighs.

“Yes, their old hideout to be quite accurate… That’s when we discovered clues pointing to France,” he explained.

Harry’s shoulders began to sag as a deeply disappointed look on his face as he watched his best friend.

“So they’re still running…and you’re not even sure they’re there?” he risked, already fearing the answer he would be given.

Ron stared at him intensely for a few moments, seeming to probe him before sighing again.

“No” he admitted.

The lights of the room began to flicker dangerously as Harry felt his anger rise into a magical stream throughout his body, clutching fists to try to contain it.

“Calm down” made Malfoy’s voice strangely soft behind him. “I’m sure they’ll find them” he added, in a more dragging and sustained tone.

Ron nodded his head, a slight smile on his lips.

“Yes Harry, we are on the right track! And this time we will succeed in catching them”

Harry stared at him for a moment before sighing loudly and closing his eyes.

"I want all this to end" he said, a pain that is hardly contained in the voice.

"I know" he heard Ron reply.

Harry immediately opened his incredible green eyes and glared at the Auror.

“No, you don’t know! You don’t know what it’s like to be in a world where everything has changed, where _you_ ’ve changed and you don’t even know who you are anymore…” he whistled between his teeth, his fists always closed along his body.

Ron swallowed. Harry could see the muscles of his jaw contract before finally loosening it to open his mouth.

“No, it’s true, but I can imagine how complicated it must be for you to go through all that.” he admitted, always staring at him with his piercing blue eyes.

Harry let the anger slowly fall back, releasing the pressure on his hands, his nails leaving the flesh of his palms too long bruised.

“I just want it to stop…” he moaned as he grabbed a handful of his black hair between his fingers, ruffling them a little more.

Ron stood up and walked up to him, grabbing his shoulders and getting close to him to force him to look him in the eyes.

"It will be, I promise" he said, staring at it with a determined look.

Harry looked at him without blinking, then finally nodded his head before letting go of his grip on his hair, lowering his arm on Ron’s shoulder to press it.

Ron gave him a smile before backing down and leaning over the table to pick up one of the cookies on a pretty plate with aristocratic patterns.

“I have to go back to the office, I’ll let you know as soon as we know we’re going to get them!” he added, chewing loudly.

"Hurry up!" Harry replied in a breath, begging him with his eyes.

Ron raised his eyebrows before smiling widely and finishing his biscuit with a wink.

"Count on me, they will not escape me!" he said, a determined glow in the blue of his eyes.

Harry could not prevent a smile from appearing on his lips seeing the confident look of his best friend.

He nodded before Ron disappeared, leaving them alone in the small living room.

Still standing, Harry released the pressure on his shoulders, staring at where Ron was a few seconds ago, before feeling a slight touch on his hand.

He became tense again when he realized that Malfoy’s fingers stroked the hollow of his palm, certainly in order to appease him, but it was the opposite effect that occurred.

In a move a little too abrupt, he shifted his hand to escape the disconcerting sweetness of Malfoy’s attention, shooking his head, the strong urge to let him go to the end.

With his breath suddenly jerking, he heard Malfoy rise up behind him and turn to see him head towards the entrance and take off his coat before putting it on. He then grabbed the leather jacket next to it and threw it without looking at him.

Harry frowned, leaning slightly forward to catch up with the garment.

"Get ready, we’re going out" he said, in a dragging tone.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, perplexed.

“I’ve ingredients to buy for my next potions” Malfoy explained, tying the buttons on his coat.

“Aren’t you working today?” Harry asked, raising eyebrows, realizing only now that he was still there.

“No, this is my day off” Malfoy explained, putting a sling around his neck. “Hurry up, I think we’ve earned some fresh air.” He added, turning his face slightly, revealing a little smirk.

Harry blinked for a moment before regaining his wits and deigning to pass his jacket by joining him in the hallway.

He instinctively approached his roommate, sticking his flank against him, without looking at him. Harry could feel his piercing eyes resting on him, seeming to probe him from all sides before one of his arms wrapped around his waist, pressing him firmly and bringing him closer to Malfoy’s body.

He shuddered by the pleasant warmth that spread against his left flank and where Malfoy’s fingers held him over his sweater.

Harry was surprised to appreciate this closeness which at first repulsed him. The feeling of discomfort was always present, but the scent of Malfoy mixed with the warmth of his body against his had something soothing and he almost wanted to close his eyes to sigh.

They landed in a small alley, sheltered from Muggles passers-by who crossed the nearby streets.

A strange feeling ran through his heart when Harry immediately recognized the Leaky Cauldron located between a bookstore and a record shop.

The storefront had not changed, as he might have suspected after ten years, and he was greatly relieved.

Inside, the pub was still dark. The many wizards sitting in front of their drinks, where sitting directly at the bar were thrown into great discussions. Some threw interested eyes at them, others pointed fingers at their neighbours as they headed to the back of the building to the famous brick wall.

Obviously, his popularity hadn’t waned, and he suspected that sharing the life of someone like Malfoy surely didn’t make it any better.

Harry wondered how people saw him today. He had always been famous for his notoriety and the actions he had taken during his childhood and now had to be supplemented by others of which he currently had no memory. He could not know the opinion of the various wizards who looked at him now and somewhere was intrigued, all the more with Malfoy at his side.

He knew that Malfoy had never been a Death Eater now, and despite the actions of his father against him and his friends, he could not determine how he was perceived to be walking around with the son of an ex-Voldemort supporter.

_He lives with me…_

This statement floated in his mind, very quickly joined by a second, much more problematic, which compressed his chest as if he had just realized it.

_He’s my lover…_

If seeing Malfoy being patient and loving with him already made him particularly uncomfortable and almost impossible, imagining having sexual touching with him was much more disturbing.

Harry had never been more than kissing a girl and his one and only experience had not been the most convincing.

He had developed some unexplainable feelings for Ginny lately but could not really make sense of them.

_She’s your best friend’s sister_

That’s the phrase that’s been running around in his head ever since he thought about her more often than he ever did before.

He had also caught himself looking at her when she passed by him, he even imagined himself kissing her two or three times.

_That’s what couples do…_

This latter information danced for a moment in his thoughts when he realized that they were already crossing the brick wall, revealing Diagon Alley before his eyes.

The streets were much busier than in his last memory, since the threat of Voldemort was no longer present in the minds of the wizards, all had reinvested the places and shops that adorned the long alley he so adored.

Harry took a slight look at Malfoy by his side, who seemed to gauge his gaze before displaying a slight smirk and making a gesture of his chin towards the alley.

They crossed the road together, observing the storefronts of the various shops that bordered it. Harry’s eyes shone with excitement when they fell on the last broom on display in Quidditch’s shop.

He took a step in his direction to be able to admire it in more detail, followed closely by Malfoy whom he heard sneering.

“You had a preview to promote it last month.” He pointed out, looking sideways at him.

Harry frowned before remembering that he was apparently the seeker of the Montrose Magpies team and that this kind of gift was common in the sports world, both among wizards and Muggles. He nodded without detaching his eyes from the beautiful broom that was floating in front of him.

They kept moving and passed the shop of Florean Fortescue where Malfoy promised to stop there after having recovered his various ingredients.

Further on, they ended up walking into an apothecary shop that Harry did not remember having seen before and Malfoy went immediately in front of the register, abandoning him in the middle of the room.

Harry detailed the many shelves filled with jars of all kinds, whose labels bore the names of various potions or ingredients. He thought he was in Snape’s personal stash and felt a pinch in his heart when he thought about Hogwarts.

He heard Malfoy discuss plants and benefits with the store manager, who gave him some information about the products he sold.

As he walked through the last shelf, he stumbled upon a pearly pink potion spiralling up into the small bottle that contained it.

_Amortentia_

Harry remembered studying it in potion class this year - _the last year he remembered at least_ \- and remembered the smell it smelled for him. Hermione talked about how it was different for everyone.

Glancing quickly at Malfoy, he reached out to the small bottle and meticulously uncorked it before sniffing its contents.

_Treacle tart, a broomstick handle, and…_

The flower fragrance he remembered was now almost insignificant, taken over by something more powerful. He frowned, again filling his nostrils with the smell, tracing all the others that he already knew before lingering on the last one that reminded him of something tangy with a few peppered touch without succeeding in putting his finger on it. He was convinced that he had already felt it somewhere, but it did not seem to want to materialize in his mind.

"Perfect, thank you," Malfoy’s voice said behind him.

Harry closed the bottle in a hurry before resting it on the shelf and turned to see Malfoy pick up a bag full of ingredients, a happy smile on his lips. His smile stretched more when he looked Harry.

“So, shall we eat this ice cream?” he said, in a smirk.

Harry blinked with astonishment before nodding and leaving the shop stiff as a pole.

They went back to Florean Fortescue to order a sorbet each and Malfoy proposed to go and taste it in a park a little further to avoid the too insistent glances of some passers-by who had recognized them both.

After exiting the Leaky Cauldron, they headed for St Anne’s Churchyard Garden, to enjoy some of the air outside.

The winter was already well under way and their warm breath was becoming foggy as they moved through the frozen-looking grass, crackling in places beneath their steps.

Walking down a paved driveway, they leaned on a barrier that ran along it and quietly finished their ice cream in silence.

They took advantage of the restful calm and the sounds of the many birds in the trees, feeding their chicks or repairing their nests to face the bitter cold surrounding them.

Harry ate a bite of his sorbet and stared at Malfoy, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. A question had been burning his lips since he had landed at that time, not knowing how to ask it without lifting a painful veil that he himself was not fully prepared to face.

Admitting that he might not have a better time to do so, he took a deep breath and decided to drop everything.

“How did he die?”

Malfoy’s hand on the fence twitched slightly as he stood up slowly, while keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the landscape in front of him.

"Who?" he asked, innocently.

Harry squinted his eyes, realizing that he was playing the fool and fully understood who he was referring to.

"Voldemort" he replied in a grave tone.

Malfoy did not jump, as Harry expected he did, after mentioned the name of the Dark Lord, but his hand was all the more tensed up on the iron bar he was holding.

Harry saw him swallow before a bitter smile twisted his thin lips.

“I was waiting for the moment when you would decide to ask me” He blew, lowering a little his very light grey eyes, in the cold winter, reflecting the trees of the park as clearly as a mirror.

Harry’s been raising eyebrows, waiting for the rest.

Malfoy sighed before deigning to continue.

“I fully understand that you want to know, but this is far too sensitive a subject for me to dare to address. I’m afraid it will cause an adverse reaction to your memory and make things worse.” He explained.

Harry gauged him for a moment without blinking.

"I want to know" he said, in a harsh voice.

Malfoy pinched his lips in a ragged pout and released the barrier that he squeezed tightly between his fingers.

“I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to tell you anything more. It’s too much…traumatic” he replied, in a calm voice.

“But he’s dead, isn’t he? He’s definitely dead?” Harry asked, whose breathing suddenly became more difficult to control as a dreadful doubt seized him.

Malfoy stared at him intensely, a wound inside of his eyes.

“Yes… He won’t come back if that’s what you want to know” he said in a dragging tone.

Harry swallowed hard.

"Are you sure?" he asked, in a breath.

Malfoy nodded.

"Yes, there’s no doubt about it" he replied, visibly confident.

Harry nodded, looking down on his hands still holding his sorbet which was beginning to melt despite the freezing cold from outside.

He bit his lower lip, fear taking precedence over his thoughts.

“Is it… Is it me who-” he began, before being brutally interrupted.

“Harry… I mean, Potter! Stop pushing… I won’t tell you anything else.” Malfoy retorted.

Harry stared at him for a moment before gave him a slight smile.

“You can’t stop yourself, can you?”

Malfoy frowned, not seeing this time, absolutely not what it was all about.

“What do you mean?” he asked, puzzled.

Harry’s smile grew as he lifted a teasing eyebrow and anchored his eyes in Malfoy’s steel eyes.

“To call me Harry” he explained.

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, his impassive mask firmly in place on his pale face with fine features, emerging all the more under the frozen air from outside.

“I’ve been calling you that for eight years, so yes, it’s complicated to have to go back to my old habits all the time.” he admitted, annoyed

“So stop forcing, it’s even more annoying to see you trying not to say my first name.”

A small grin adorned Malfoy’s lips.

“It was you who forbade me to call you that, remember?” he sneered, raising an eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but I’m tired of hearing you take you back all the time, so call me whatever you want, it doesn’t change anything, anyway” He said, shrugging his shoulders before turning his attention to the trees in front of him.

"As you wish," said Malfoy’s dragging voice after a while.

A small silence settled between them, each one concentrated to contemplate the icy landscape around them.

“We should go home” he added, putting his hands in the pockets of his long black coat.

Harry breathed the frozen air into his lungs before exhaling an almost opaque white mist in front of him.

“I’m all right, here”

“Potter… it’s cold and I’m getting hungry, so let’s go home,” Malfoy said in his dragging voice.

Harry sneered.

“It’s not Harry anymore?”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and gauged him for a moment.

“Not when you have the ability to annoy me. I always enjoy using your last name to piss you off.”

Harry blinked before shrugging his shoulders in spite.

“Do what you want, I’m used to you calling me like that, anyway”

Malfoy brought his eyes to the landscape with a bitter smile.

“Oh, I know…” he blew, for himself.

He stared at the trees for a few more moments, seeming lost in his thoughts again before turning completely and extending his arm in its direction.

"Let’s go home," he said, with his palms facing the sky, waiting for him to take hold of it.

Harry gauged the pale hand with long thin fingers before advancing his arm in turn and grabbing Malfoy’s wrist further, unwilling to experience sensations that would still make him uncomfortable when he touched his skin against his own.

Malfoy gently pulled him closer and Harry had a little jolt when his body met his, his shoulder contiguous gently to that of Malfoy.

Harry froze there when his nose grazed Malfoy’s cheek and immediately turned his face to the side to hide the discomfort he felt on his cheeks.

He opened wide his eyes when he felt the familiar smell filling his nostrils reminding him of the scent that he could not determine a few hours earlier.

_Peppered and tangy…_

That was the moment Malfoy chose to Side-Along.

OoOoOoOo

He ended his day as he started it. Lying in bed, his mind is even more cluttered than in the morning.

Harry had come to realize that Malfoy was present in his every thought, both in his way of looking at him and in the way he saw him through his gestures and personality.

Every time he closed his eyes, Malfoy’s face materialized. Every time he passed by his side, he could not help but breathe the smell that he had finally identified. Every time he spoke to him, he anchored his eyes in an ocean of pearly grey, the depth of which instantly caught him, gripping his heart and accelerating his breathing.

Harry had developed a dangerous addiction for Malfoy, or else Malfoy exercised a power far too present for his mental balance and feelings.

He remembered Ron reprimanding him for his obsession with finding out what he was up to. According to him, Harry always reported everything to Malfoy, looking for the small opportunity to spit on him, even when he was not in his field of vision.

Apparently, even then, he kept thinking about Malfoy.

_Has that always been the case?_

Harry shook his head, chasing this stupid idea out of his mind, already too disturbed by the last few days.

Standing up with his elbows, he forced himself to deflect his thoughts onto a much darker idea, which despite what Malfoy had more or less taught him, was still not entirely convinced of his truth.

_Voldemort is dead…_

But was it true?

Harry couldn’t get that idea into his head.

Of his last memories, the Dark Lord was building an army, gathering as many Death Eaters as he could. Terrorizing Muggles and ransacking cities with black magic to show his many powers and power unparalleled over the centuries.

Harry shuddered at the gloom of his thoughts.

However, now that the subject had been put on the table, he knew that he could never sleep without the certainty that Voldemort had died during the war. Whatever Malfoy and his friends say.

He had to be sure…

_Completely sure!_

In a resigned sigh, he pushed back the blankets and headed for the small crystal bottle on one of the shelves of the room. Fixing the scrolls of smoke dancing inside, he opened the bottle and turned his head in the direction of the door which materialized at that moment.

Determined, he advanced towards her with the firm intention of stirring up memories to find one that would show him the truth. He had to find out if it was true…

As soon as he wanted to put his hand on the handle, a magical field pushed his arm back, preventing him from accessing it.

Frowning, he looked down at the door of the room, suspecting that Malfoy had something to do with it.

Too stubborn to let go, he grabbed his magic wand and cast a spell of silence on it before beginning to cast different spells on the protective barrier, in the hope that it will eventually weaken under the shock.

Losing patience, Harry concentrated all his magic flow on his wand before throwing a powerful stream of light towards the field that he felt cracked before breaking permanently.

Resuming his breath, he slowly pushed the door before crossing the threshold and finding the Pensieve where the silver colour was reflected on the stone walls of the room.

Heading automatically to the same cabinet as last time, Harry froze for a moment before slightly turning his heels toward the second on the other side of the Pensieve.

Assuming that the cabinet on the left contained his memories, then the one on the right…

_Those of Malfoy…_

The cogs set in place, operating at full speed, while an incongruous idea was born in his perilous mind.

Taking a deep breath, he moved forward in front of the right cabinet, opening the glass delicately, and fingers trembling slightly, and pulled out a transparent vial where a small filament was floating inside.

Harry examined it, turning it in his palm to read the fine and beautiful writing on the label.

_“MM…#1”_

Wrinkling his eyes, he rested the bottle to look for another more telling one.

His fingers running through the different vials at his fingertips before finding one that made his eyes open wide.

Harry brought the vial back to him, passing the thumb on the paper that said:

_“HP…#1”_

Swallowing with difficulty, he squeezed the flask a little in the palm of his hand, before turning to the Pensieve to deposit the memory meticulously.

A picture of him appeared in the container, sitting on a bench, a thick forest on the horizon.

Not losing a second more, he plunged his head into the liquid and was automatically brought into the scene.

_Harry lands behind a tree, a slender silhouette of which leans against his trunk, hands in the pockets of his pants._

_Over his shoulder, he could see a Harry from the past sitting on a bench beside a lake that he recognized as Hogwarts, just in front of the Forbidden Forest._

_Walking at the height of the person who seemed to be staring at him, his heart jumped when he realized that it was Malfoy._

_Malfoy looked at him very differently from today._

_A pain anchored in his beautiful grey eyes, despite the darkness in which they were, the night having begun to fall on the immense park of Hogwarts._

_Harry could also guess a certain apprehension in the metallic irises of his Nemesis, as if he was not quite sure what he was about to do._

_However, after a few minutes to remain motionless, Malfoy finally came out of the shadows and took a nervous step, moving in the direction of his past self, still focused on the water of the lake at his feet._

_Malfoy stood right next to the Harry from the past, upright and impassive, although his eyes showed that everything else was happening inside him._

_“Potter” made his voice dragging in the semi-darkness, slightly illuminated by the black lake._

_The Harry from the past jumped slightly before turning his head towards Malfoy._

_"Malfoy" he replied, in a neutral tone._

_He postponed his concentration on the flowing calm water before speaking again._

_"What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked, giving him a slight glance._

_Malfoy stretched a little sneer, before turning his head in his direction, raising an eyebrow._

_“I could ask you the same question…”_

_He then turned his head towards the castle behind them._

_“You don’t plan on attending the end-of-year meal?” he asked._

_The Harry from the past looked down on his hands on his thighs, groping his fingers, his back leaning on the back of the bench where he was sitting._

_"Not yet" he replied in a whisper that was almost inaudible._

_Malfoy nodded imperceptibly._

_“Where are Weasel and Granger?” he asked, looking at the trees swinging under the light evening breeze._

_A little smile was born on the lips of the Harry from the past before he lifted his eyes towards the lake to contemplate it again._

_“Surely where they can engage in couple activities, I suppose” he sneered, softly._

_Malfoy did not answer, merely observing the darkness that lay before them._

_It was the voice of the Harry from the past that broke the little silence installed after a few seconds._

_"I wouldn’t go to the tower tonight," he whispered, staring firmly at the water, his fingers suddenly appearing motionless and tight._

_Malfoy raised an eyebrow before turning his head to his past self to stare at him._

_He gauged him for a moment before finally answering him with his laziest tone._

_“I don’t see how this information concerns me”_

_“Not at all, but I just wanted to warn you, if…you expected to see me, anyway, I wouldn’t be there.”_ _the Harry from the past replied, babbling, visibly uneasy suddenly._

_Malfoy looked at him intensely, apparently seeking to probe him before nodding and turning his heels._

_“Well, I’m going back to the castle, I just wanted to be courteous.”_

_Malfoy thus took the direction of the castle, arriving at the height of the tree where he was a few minutes earlier._

_"Wait!" said the voice of the Harry from the past behind his back._

_Malfoy froze on the spot, slightly turning his face to the side, raising an eyebrow, like he telling him to continue._

_The Harry from the past tightened his fingers a little tighter between them, as the muscles of his jaw tightened strongly as he lowered his eyes on his hands._

_“Am I…” he started, before closing his mouth and biting his lower lip._

_He finally removes his teeth from the bruised flesh to reopen his mouth and start talking again._

_“Am I-”_

_“Are you going to finish that sentence or is it going to stay in limbo all night?” Malfoy sighed while turning completely to look at his back stretched on the backrest of the bench._

_The Harry from the past shook his head before getting up and facing him, bringing his arms along his body._

_"You know what, nevermind" he replied, sweeping the air with a gesture of his hand and bringing his green eyes to Malfoy who kept staring at him, raising an eyebrow telling him to go to the end of his reasoning._

_The Harry from the past, passed a hand in his black hair before giving him a deep look and taking up the word._

_“Am I the only one enjoying the evenings spent at the tower?” he finally asked._

_Malfoy’s eyes grew a second before he frowned, looking as disturbed as the Harry from the present._

_His past self, shook his head again, smiling painfully before sticking his hands in his trouser pockets._

_“I knew it was a stupid question, I should never have asked it” he murmured, fleeing Malfoy’s gaze. "I would do well to go inside too," he also took the direction of the castle._

_Malfoy was still staring at him, following his movements before he reached his height and his hand grabbed the wrist of the Harry from the past to force him to stop._

_The Harry from the past froze, his eyes firmly resting on the ground, his breathing seemed to become a little jerkier._

_“No” Malfoy finally blew, his fingers tightening their grip._

_His past self, lifted his head towards him, perplexed, visibly waiting for more explanations._

_Malfoy turned his eyes to a fixed point above the shoulder of the Harry from the past._

_"No, you’re not the only one" he admitted, in a breath._

_Harry saw himself rise up slightly, intensely anchoring his irises in those Malfoy's, fleeing ._

_He noticed the small point of blush on his cheekbones, unable to determine whether it was discomfort or cold that surrounded them._

_Lowering his eyes to put them on Malfoy’s hand, still holding his wrist, he noticed that neither of them had left._

_As if he had heard it, his past self, seemed to follow the same reasoning before anchoring his gaze on Malfoy’s._

_Malfoy stared at him a few seconds before lowering his eyes to Harry's lips and opening his mouth._

_The Harry from the past swallowed, then took a step forward._

_Malfoy became tense and finally released his fingers as he stepped back, his arm still hanging while he seemed completely hypnotized by the intense gaze of the Harry from the past._

_The Harry from the past moving a little further, presumably determined to get close to him while backing him up to block him against a tree._

_Malfoy’s eyes turned to the side, realizing that he could not go any further._

_“Potter…” he said, in a voice made hoarse by the panic that Harry saw in his grey eyes._

_“I- I need to- I need to check something…” he blew, hardly with a barely audible voice._

_Malfoy raised his eyebrows very high, seeming to have difficulty in not spreading his eyes under the panic that was reading there._

_After a few moments, the Gryffindor slowly narrowed the gap between them, slightly tilting the head to the side while closing the eyes._

_Harry saw Malfoy grasping the tree with his hands, squeezing the bark tightly between his fingers. He could easily guess that he was holding his breath, as he was doing right now in front of the strange scene unfolding in front of him._

_And what he feared, happened. His past self gently put his lips on Malfoy’s lips. A kiss barely pressed, a mere touch, but enough to seal their lips between them._

_Malfoy had kept his eyes open and seemed to tighten his fingers more on the trunk of the tree, visibly seeking to cling to something so as not to fall under the shock._

_His past self finally leaned his lips to those of Malfoy, whose eyelids lowered slightly, as if driven by the fire of the moment. The Harry from the past opened his mouth a little more to take out his tongue and caress his lips to taste them._

_Malfoy opened his mouth in turn and let in the begging tongue of his past self, dropping the last barriers and closing his eyes instantly. The kiss lasted a few seconds before Malfoy suddenly reopened them, pushing back the Harry of the past to finally break free from his embrace, panting._

_He then passed his fingers over his lips, completely panicked before looking up at the Harry from the past._

_His past self, looked at him with his eyelids half lowered, as if he had just reopened them, before wrinkling his eyes, seeming a little wounded by his reaction._

_When he appeared to become aware of the situation, Malfoy broke eye contact and ran straight for the castle, leaving the Gryffindor behind._

_Harry had just enough time to see himself passing a hand over his face, hiding his eyes, his body covered with slight tremors before being sent back to the present._

It suddenly emerges from the Pensieve in a great inspiration, before moving away from it by backing, a hand stuck on the mouth.

The breathing jerked, his eyes moving from left to right, unable to calm the frenzied heartbeat of his heart beating heavily in his chest.

Slowly lowering his hand on his chin, revealing his half-open lips, he painfully closed his eyes to force himself not to panic.

He’d just seen himself kissing Malfoy…

Intentionally.

He had seen himself initiate the kiss, the burning desire to touch Malfoy, shining in his dark eyes as he move towards him to be able to kiss him.

_I kissed Malfoy…_

He have felt the pent-up desire of Malfoy whirling in his memory, fear and desire to continue kissing him.

Even worse, he wanted to do it too. He had wanted to take off his past self so that he could participate in the kiss he had given Malfoy, to know his taste and to learn it more deeply with his tongue.

_I really wanted to…_

Harry froze for a moment, getting more tensed when he realized that this desire had followed him here, restraining his desire to leave the room to continue the kiss with his roommate.

Wrinkling his eyelids, he swallowed hard, remembering how it _turned him on_ when he saw himself kissing him.

He repressed a sob, realizing that he _still was_ …


	6. Dispersed

Blinking in the darkness of the living room, he wrinkled his eyes to observe the clock hanging from the wall indicating him it was time to get up.

He struggled on the couch and groaned while trying to loosen his painfully contracted muscles from the night he had spent away from his own bed.

Several nights that he slept on that bloody couch where his sleep and body were suffering, leaving him a little more tired and bruised than ever.

Draco stood up in a sitting position, and put his feet on the floor. He then put his hands on his face and rubbed it to wake up more. He stretched out for a long time before deciding to get up, cracking the bones of his spine and neck and then carefully folding the down that served as his blanket.

He risked a glance at the door of his room and then turned completely to face it.

Moving forward in subdued steps, he held his breath and pinned his ear against the door, trying to distinguish the slightest noise inside that might make him assume that Potter was already awake.

Not hearing anything particular, he took care to knock slightly to signify his presence and opened the door delicately to sink inside. It was dark. Only the low brightness of the living room gave a glimpse of the furniture in the room.

Draco went slowly towards the dresser to get out of it what to dress quickly before going into the bathroom. Opening the drawers delicately, he pulled a black sweater and grey trousers before closing it just as gently.

The steady breath from the blankets indicated that Potter was still asleep and he was tempted to let him enjoy some of his well-deserved sleep. He fixed the light movements of the sheets, rising and falling to the rhythm of Harry’s slow breathing, then sighed before finally moving towards the bed.

Draco put a knee on the blankets, and leaned silently over Potter. He then raised one hand and gently placed it on his shoulder, which he began to shake.

“Harry…” he whispered.

He waited a few seconds and then saw that he was not reacting, he shook more vigorously to get him out of his sleep, despite the terrible desire to leave him there.

“Potter, wake up” he said in a louder voice, shaking him more.

A small moan answered him before Harry ended up turning and frantically beating eyelids. Always leaning on him, Draco saw him very clearly open his eyes in the dark, meeting his own before growing in amazement when he finally seemed to see him.

Potter tensed up in the middle of the bed, seeming to want to merge with the mattress. Panic had taken possession of the harmonious features of his face and his breath was becoming more and more irregular.

Draco glanced at the offered body beneath him, the contracted muscles coming out under Harry’s t-shirt, while his hands tightly squeezed the sheets between his fingers. He swallowed with difficulty, suppressing his desire to bend more to steal his lips and regain that taste which he so missed.

“Get up, we have an hour before we have to go to your meeting with Theo” he announced, in a voice made hoarse by the rising desire.

Draco wasn’t quite sure, but he would have sworn that Harry had been shivering when he heard him talking. He was sure of this when he felt the goosebumps show up under his fingers, where his hand was always on Potter’s shoulder.

He seemed almost frozen and stared at him strangely as if he expected Draco to jump on him to kiss him. Which was not entirely false, but Draco would never try anything in such circumstances.

Feeling too much discomfort, Draco backed away, delicately releasing Harry’s shoulder without preventing himself from touching his arm with his fingertips. He rose up completely, thus putting some distance between them, as vital to him as to Harry.

“I'll let you get dressed, I’ll go to the bathroom.” He said, before leaving the room under the ever-frightened Potter's gaze.

He almost ran into the washroom, closing it quickly before casually putting down his belongings and leaning over the sink. With his eyelids tightly closed, Draco breathed slowly, trying to calm the desire that he felt to have seen Harry so close, within reach of his lips, to have touched him and felt his skin react against his own.

Draco was having more and more trouble controlling himself. Especially since he felt like Potter was more inclined to let him. Something woke up at Harry’s, he could see it. He seemed more open to the possibility of getting closer, despite the permanent discomfort that did not leave his gestures and his gaze when he felt him put on him.

Potter seemed less bothered to let him try a touch, allowing him to quench his thirst for touch somewhat. It was clearly not enough compared to what he had in mind, but he had to be content with the little opportunity he gave him, savouring those precious moments while waiting for everything to return to the way it was.

Draco detached his hands tightly closed on the earthenware. He groaned under the pain of having squeezed too hard and frantically beat fingers to release them. He then turned the cold water tap and passed his hands under the jet to collect the flow, lowering his palms on his face to cool off.

He blinked to drop the few drops that had hung from his lashes, revealing his disturbing, almost transparent, grey orbs. Draco had never liked his eyes. Too faded, not enough coloured. As if they had been bleached.

He winced as he watched them through the mirror and sighed before their faded and too cold side.

_So distorted…_

Harry said he loved them. Comparing them to silver when they reflected light, or to a tumultuous ocean when they darkened with desire. Sometimes, much less now, but the few times that hatred and anger were mixed in, he spoke of a stormy sky with flashes of light like lightning. Draco clearly preferred those of Potter, where the intensity of the emeralds was always as vivid regardless of the emotion that ran through it.

He took a towel resting on the side of the sink and pressed it on his face to wipe it off. He quickly abandoned it to put his gaze on his clothes, which he hastened to put on.

Once fully dressed, he closed the cuff links of his shirt, detailing his reflection in every detail, looking for what he could further perfect to complete his appearance.

Passing a hand in his hair, he brought them back, a few strands escaping from his fine fingers, falling on his temples. He squinted his eyes, realizing that he would soon have to cut them, finding them a little too long for his liking.

Draco gauged himself one last time, pulling on the edges of his jacket to put it straight, chasing the few folds in places and consenting to leave the bathroom, a ball forming in his stomach.

He spent most of his time worrying about Harry’s reactions. Apprehending what he might be thinking at the moment.

Harry was so impulsive that it was never easy to find out what state of mind he was going to find him in when he got out of bed.

He went to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast, ignoring the frantic urge to go and see if Potter was ready.

He arranged the plates and the various elements of the dishes, and he made the food in the cupboards and the fridge float alternately, placing them on the table in the centre of the room. As soon as he had put the water to heat in the teapot on the stove fire, a sound behind his back suggested that Potter had just joined him.

The hypothesis was confirmed when he settled on one of the chairs around the table, concentrating on fiddling his fingers. Draco frowned, searching for events of the previous day that might have disturbed him further. Although he concentrated strongly, he found nothing very restrictive about the exchanges they had maintained, except the fact that the sons of Death Eaters were still out of reach.

He took a seat on one of the chairs in turn and faced Potter. He stared at him from top to bottom, closing in a corner of his mind the irremediable urge to jump on him to kiss him. Harry glanced at him briefly and then resolutely lowered his eyes at the food in front of him, his cheeks taking on a colourful hue as his hands closed to form fists.

Raising his eyebrows, Draco remained motionless for a moment not knowing if Harry was angry with him or seemed even more disconcerted than usual since he had lost his memories.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, to be sure.

Potter jumped slightly and the muscles of his jaw contracted when he nodded firmly, as a response. Not insisting any more, Draco concentrated on his plate and began his breakfast, well aware that Harry was not inclined to discuss this morning.

It seemed to him that the mood had softened between them since yesterday. Potter even allowed him to call him _Harry_ even though it was because he was irritated to see him pick himself up every time his first name escaped the barriers of his lips.

Harry had again shown signs of weakness concerning him, such as the discomfort of their proximity when they were Side-Along, or when they were close enough to feel the heat of the other spreading through a part of their body.

He risked a glance towards Potter to notice that he was staring at him intensely. Potter’s eyes seemed hypnotized on the lower part of his face, a strange mixture of fear and desire shone in his green irises. He had still not touched his meal, his hands tightly pressed on the edges of his plate while all the muscles of his body were fully tensed up.

Draco frowned at his strange behaviour. Potter seemed so focused on that part of his face that he didn’t even notice that Draco was staring at him back. It then became evident that Harry looked at his lips when he bitten one of his own strongly without detaching the eyes from Draco’s mouth.

Potter seemed split between running away from the room to find himself as far away from Draco as possible or, on the contrary, running straight for him to kiss him passionately.

A terrible struggle was seen in Potter’s eyes as his hands began to tremble against his plate by squeezing too much. Soon, the whole of his body was covered with tremors, making the table tremble before Draco felt what was floating around them.

_Fuck…_

Harry was doing magic without a wand without realizing it, visibly not controlling his magic flow while his eyes still wouldn’t let go of Draco’s lips.

“Potter?”

Harry didn’t seem to hear him because his magic power was increasing. The various elements present on the table were shaken by tremors and moved quickly over it, the cutlery hitting the plates in small metal noises.

One of the glasses filled with juice was dangerously vacillating and the liquid spilled in large drops on the table when it started to crack on the top. A larger and deeper line formed on the glass before it exploded and scattered into several pieces of glass that landed on Draco’s plate.

“Harry!” Draco yelled, clapping his hand on the table to make him react.

Potter had a slight jolt before abruptly moving his eyes up into his own. He then quickly lowered his head to see all the damage that his magic was causing and quickly loosened his hands from his plate by discarding them as if the porcelain had just burned him.

The crockery parts became totally motionless and silent, as Harry turned his palms toward the sky and stared at them in a panicked look. He remained frozen for a few moments to contemplate them. His lips and fingertips were covered with slight tremors, before he finally turned his hands over and slowly laid them flat on the table.

Draco hadn’t moved either. He stared at his lover with an alarmed look at him total lack of control and sought to determine what might have caused such an emotion in Harry.

Harry, who always stared at his hands with furrowing eyebrows, cautiously raised his head in his direction, looking away at Draco’s fingers anchored on the table and opened wide his eyes.

Raising a sceptical eyebrow, Draco followed the path of his thought and scrutinized his own hand before realizing that a stain of blood was spreading between his fingers and slowly widening. A slight tingling inside his palm confirmed that he had undoubtedly cut himself when he struck his hand on the table to stop Potter’s drift. He turned his hand to expose it to the sky and noticed some pieces of glass inlaid in his flesh, in the middle of a small bloody circle.

The haemoglobin escaped in fine red lines and traced the hollows between his fingers, dyeing the white, almost translucent features of his skin. He frowned detailing the red liquid rolling over the cracks in his hand and bent it slightly to let the blood flow to the side before shaking it to drain it over the table. He then removed the small pieces of glass and placed them on his plate, now stained with broken pieces, before taking his towel to sponge off his hand.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Harry said, trembling.

Draco lifted his eyes up while applying a slight pressure to his palm, holding his fingers to let the tissue soak in.

Potter stopped looking at him. With his head turned to the side, he had the look of the one who felt guilty, as if the fact of having hurt Draco also reached him. He clenched his fists around his plate, his lips tightly pinched, seeming to struggle not to hit himself.

Draco sighed before displaying a little smirk to see Harry so upset by a simple scratch.

“It’s nothing, just a little scratch, not a big deal,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Harry glanced at him before shaking his head with resigned look and passing a trembling hand through his dark hair.

“It could have been much worse…” he whispered before closing his eyes, firmly grabbing several dark strands between his fingers.

Draco raised an eyebrow before lightly giggling, which caused Harry’s eyes to suddenly open before he looked at him without understanding.

“You really have the gift of dramatizing everything… You had a little loss of control, it happens to everyone and it did nothing to me but a slight wound, nothing serious in the end” he argued, cleaning the blood stain on the table.

Potter watched him do it, following his movements with his eyes strangely darkened.

“Maybe, but the day I stab you in the heart because I haven’t been able to control my _fucking_ magic, you’ll react differently!” he spit, with disgust, before sticking his incredible irises in his eyes.

Draco stares at him without blinking, abandoning the towel and leaning slightly forward.

“That day will never come _again_. Not now… not while I’m here,” he replied with a determined tone.

Potter’s lips stretched out with a slight bitter, almost sad smile, as if it was his very presence that was the real problem.

_And maybe that’s actually the case…_

His stomach contracted painfully at this terrible finding. He swallows hard before surreptitiously closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, his hand picking up his wand from the pocket of his pants.

He lifted the towel which he carelessly threw onto his plate and then cast a "Tergeo" on the blood stain which disappeared instantly. He then turned his hand to expose his palm and cast the spell "Episkey" to heal his wound, which was already beginning to heal.

Draco folded and unfolded his hand, feeling the heat of the spell spreading under the pores of his skin, immediately healing the crack in the center of his palm to leave no trace of it.

"See, nothing left," he said, showing his immaculate hand, a little reassuring smile in the corner of his lips.

Harry glanced at him and very quickly turned his eyes, shrugging his shoulders before getting up and taking his plate and putting it in the sink.

“It doesn’t change anything, I’m dangerous and you know I’m right,” he hissed, mechanically flushing the dish under the water.

Draco, who had followed him with his eyes, sighed as he lowered his head to shake it from left to right, before lifting it up with a weary look.

“This is ridiculous…”

“No, it’s not! I don’t control anything since I’ve been here… My magic, my life, my feel-”

Potter’s back contracted abruptly, his sentence remaining suspended while a light pink tint gradually covered the top of his cheeks.

Draco raised an eyebrow, surprised at the discomfort of Harry, understanding nevertheless all his resentment towards the events that he suffered in recent days.

He too had a hard time controlling himself when it came to his feelings for Harry. He too had to settle for his half-lover, suppressing his emotions so as not to break and kiss him whenever he wanted. Because he did. He needed to touch him to remind himself that even if he didn’t remember, Potter was his.

And it was eating him to the bones.

“It’s okay, Harry, you’ve lost a lot in this story, but I promise you, I _promise_ _you_ , you’ll get all your memories back.”

Potter stopped his friction movements against the plate and leaned his head back as he sighed.

“I just want everything back to the way it was…”

Draco felt sore, understanding the implication in Harry’s remarks. He knew full well at what stage their relationship was in Potter’s last memories and he apparently wished that they would return. His heart shook at the simple thought, that the Harry standing in front of him did not want his presence at his side, or at least not as he had shared it for the past few years.

Potter seemed to prefer a Draco who hated him over the man he had become today, in love with the _Saviour_ and the man of his life.

Because that’s what he was and that was for him, too.

The _fucking_ man of his _life_.

Draco repressed the rage that he felt rising to block it in his throat and thus contain the hateful words that would emerge in a flood of ineptitude that he would regret in the moment. Because Potter didn’t remember. Because the fucking hero of the witch world didn’t know how much he loved him, how happy they were both and how complete they were.

And it was all the more frustrating.

Swallowing all his sorrow, he squeezed his wand tightly between his hand, biting the inside of his cheek to avoid appearing on his face and agreeing to answer.

"I understand" he admitted, in an excessively dragging tone.

He saw the muscles of Potter’s arms tighten as he washed the plate, frantically rubbing more than reason on the container, as if he was trying to erase this discussion by removing the remains of his meal.

Turning his eyes away from the clock hanging on the wall, Draco sighed and cast a spell on the dishes still present on the table so that they could return to their usual place. Her plate went into the sink on its own and shook Potter a little bit, and Potter jumped slightly, dropping his own, which fell back into a dull sound when it hit the bottom.

“Come on, it’s time to go” Draco added, as he got up to head for the door. He opened the door wide before moving to the side and then turned around completely to encourage Harry to cross it.

It took Harry a few moments to move to find him. He nodded faintly from his head to finally cross the doorway without a look for him. He grabbed his coat and Harry took his jacket without him having to give it to him, tearing off a slight smile on Draco’s face to see him take on habits he didn’t even remember having.

Draco stood upright, waiting for Potter to finish dressing up, his face firmly lowered on his feet, visibly resigned to the fate that awaited him.

Draco shyly reached out his hand, intimating him to hold on to it so that he could Side-Along instead of the session. Potter gauged his hand, a resigned look reflected on his features as he approached his hand to hold his wrist. He then got closer to Draco and moved his hand along his arm to grab one of his hips.

Surprised, Draco blinked before looking for Harry’s gaze. He met his closed eyelids as his fingers squeezed tightly around his waist and pressed his flank a little closer until their bodies touched completely.

Draco could feel Harry’s jerky breath rippling off his cheek. He had difficulty swallowing while his muscles tightened under his touch. Potter’s eyes were always tightly closed, as if he did not accept his gesture enough to confront it.

Draco raised his arm between their bodies to enclose Potter’s waist and quietly put his hand on his hip before holding his breath and having them both Side-Along.

When they Apparated to the hospital, Potter wouldn’t let him go right away. His arm was firmly wrapped around his waist during the ride. Draco could feel Harry’s chest rising with difficulty, his breathing becoming heavier, while the frenzied beats of his heart were echoed against his bust. He himself could not control his own to feel Harry so close, his woody scent filling his nostrils.

He could have stayed like that forever. Potter in his arms, his breath reaching the hollow of his neck. If he’d allowed himself, he would have tightened his grip against his hip, turned his head slightly to stick his nose on his cheek and dropped a slight kiss from the tip of his lips against his skin.

But he didn’t do it. He had to stay strong, because he didn’t know how Harry would react. Or rather, he did. So he slowly detached himself from Potter’s grip, because he couldn’t stand a rejection from him. It was already complicated enough to always have to restrain himself, if on top, Harry was pushing him away because he foolishly tried to _touch_ him…

_No, you can’t..._

Draco swallowed hard as he gradually moved away from Potter’s arms and turned his heels to the window where the dummies were exposed.

The heartbeat of his heart did not slacken as he walked nervously and finally reached the entrance of the building. He closed his eyes before crossing the magical field that would lead him to his workplace. He could feel the presence of Potter in his back, which followed him closely and the slight sound of his steps. He repressed a long shudder when his warm breath crashed against his neck, and more strongly wrinkled his eyelids as he passed through the barriers of St Mungo’s.

Yes. If he dared to. If he touch Potter the way he wanted to… It would destroy him…

OoOoOoOo

Draco vigorously shook the vial of salamander blood which he held firmly in his hand, leaning on his elbows on the preparation table, one of his cheeks delicately resting against his fist. He stared at the smoking cauldron under his eyes and methodically counted the seconds in his head, unconsciously forming the numbers with his lips.

When he reached the count, he straightened himself slightly and opened the bottle with a dry gesture before carefully pouring the liquid it contained into the pot. He carefully tilted his face just above the preparation to see the yellow potion turn instantly to green once the salamander blood was integrated.

A satisfied smile adorned his lips as he mixed the concoction one last time, losing himself in the hypnotic colour, similar to that of will-o’-the-wisps.

Draco then stopped the fire under the cauldron and grabbed an empty vial and a ladle to fill it with the potion he had just finished. He carefully closed the bottle, taking care to mark, with his most beautiful calligraphy, the name “ _Wiggenweld”_ then put it on the departure grid for the next patients.

He fills more than a dozen before finally scraping the bottom with his ladle.

Draco took care to clean his work surface. He cast a quick cleaning spell on the traces that some ingredients had left when he cut them or pressed them and then made disappear the last drops of the potion whose green still glowed.

He went to his private reserve to get the new ingredients to make a _“Blood-Replenishing Potion”_ , used extensively in the medical field. After spreading the whole set on the table, he rekindled the fire under the cauldron and began to make the cure potion.

He finely cut the aconite petals before chiseling them into the cauldron. Draco then crushed the beetle’s eyes to add them to the preparation and stirred the ladle three times in counterclockwise direction, then twice in the opposite direction.

The potion slowly took on a beautiful orange color, leading him to lower the heat slightly to let it simmer quietly.

He prepared the next ingredients by lifting from time to time the head towards the clock hanging on the wall in front of him.

Thirty minutes till Potter gets off his session with Theo.

Draco sighed while crushing the dried flesh of octopus in his terracotta bowl, hoping everything was going well.

In his last session with the Theo, Harry had hinted that he didn’t like him. According to him, Theo was only good at belittling him and showing him all his superiority. This was not entirely false when we knew him, but Draco knew that he was excellent in his field of choice.

He was convinced that thanks to him, Harry would manage to relax his mind enough so that he could recover his memories without any problems. Because it was complicated to get everything all at once. Especially when the number of years was so high. And ten years of Potter’s life was way more than anyone else on this bloody planet.

Potter…

Draco closed his eyes for a moment and thought back at the strange event that had occurred that morning. Harry had certainly let his emotions get in the way of his magic and had once again made him feel five times what he felt.

Over the years, he had learned to control more or less this kind of phenomena, but the teenager who was in him today still had all the verve that he could not bear in the time of Hogwarts.

A slight smile stretched Draco’s lips knowing that he had even been almost jealous of this ability to reveal himself without restraint, without the need to hide his way of being, his way of existence from the world.

Harry had a gift for not caring what people thought. Quite the opposite of Draco at that time, or showing himself as he really was, was exposing a state of weakness of which he was deeply ashamed. Because a Malfoy never reveals his moods. A Malfoy keeps his temper in all circumstances, even in the face of death.

Yet, he had never completely managed to hide his feelings in the presence of Potter. One of the many other Harry's faculties that Draco had faced irreparably.

Harry had always been able to shatter the impassive mask that he constantly tried to tackle on his face. Erasing the effort and the hours spent practicing alone in front of his mirror to get at a result that he considered almost perfect.

And Potter was the only one who had succeeded in this masterstroke.

It was also one of the reasons that had given rise in Draco to a deep and acrimonious hatred for his former enemy. Hatred that had faded little by little to eventually turn into an unconditional love for that bloody _Scarhead_.

Draco had a amused little laugh, remembering the nickname he had specially invented to piss off Harry in their childhood. And oh, how it worked…

Although he no longer called him that, he was still quite proud of the many other nicknames he had developed at night in his bed, while his classmates slept in the Slytherins dormitory.

He remembered accurately the nights when he thought he would throw them at Potter's face the next day when he would meet him at the corner of a hallway or during the classes they would have in common. He used to recite insults with his dragging tone, excelling particularly in the art of handling sarcasm with brilliance.

He had always been good at sarcasm, maybe even the best in his house.

It must be said that he had something to train with Harry as the main victim of his appalling cynicism at the time. He still used to be sarcastic, but no more for the same reasons about Potter. Simply because sometimes he wanted to see him react to his words. He liked to be Harry’s center of attention as when they were children.

Because if Harry had the power to break the ice that hid his being, Draco had the ability to give birth to that glow in the Survivor’s green eyes that showed how important he was. That incandescent fire that burned in his veins when he handled words. Stinging and sharp when he was angry, subtle and enticing when he wanted to make him lose his mind.

And that, too, he was proud of. Making Potter lose his head as he had passionately stolen his heart.

A splash made him turn his head towards his preparation to find that it had taken a carmine red color.

Frowning, he looked up at the clock indicating that Potter’s appointment was nearing its end.

Draco gave up the ingredients he had prepared and he grumbled because the potion should have had the shade of a vermilion red and he had waited too long to incorporate them.

He clasped his tongue on the roof of his mouth and dismayed himself for having lost himself in his reflections long enough to completely ruin his potion.

_You such an idiot…_

He extinguished the fire under the cauldron and then cleaned all the ingredients still present on the work surface. He discarded half of them which were to be used immediately after taking them out of their jars.

Sighing in spite, he winced at the far too pasty aspect of his potion before pointing his wand at the cauldron.

“ _Evanesco_ ” he mumbled, still angry at having to postpone the preparation of this bloody cure.

The potion evaporated instantly and erased his prodigious failure to make such a simple potion.

He made another wrist move to store the utensils in their respective closets before getting up and grabbing his coat to join Harry upstairs where he had left him an hour earlier.

He walked down the hallways that brought him closer to Potter, hoping to find him in a more relaxed state than when they arrived.

Theo’s office door barely opened as he reached the waiting room of the psychomagic service.

He saw Harry come out with his head down and his jaw taut as he closed the door behind him.

Potter closed his eyes for a moment while sighing, keeping the door handle in his hand that he squeezed hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He opened them slowly before abruptly raising his head in his direction, nervously blushing as if he had been caught at fault.

Draco raised an eyebrow with a slight smile that was meant to be reassuring, but did not have the expected effect. Harry’s cheeks lit up a little more as his eyes seemed to stare intensely at his lips, his owns slowly drifting apart as if he wanted to taste them.

Draco opened wide his eyes, reading in Harry’s eyes all the restraint he seemed to be keeping from letting out to go to the end of his own desires.

Harry finally blinked several times before turning away his head and narrowly pinching his lips to leave only a thin, almost invisible line.

His arm, still holding the doorknob of Theo’s office, was surprisingly tense. He obviously didn’t want to let go of it and was certainly using it as a catalyst to get through all the stress accumulated during the psychoanalysis session.

“Potter?”

Harry had a slight startle then looked at him from the corner of his eye before completely turning his head to face him again.

Draco stared at him for a moment, detailing his tired features and the totally distraught look that shone in his emerald eyes as he kept staring at his lips, which seemed to trouble him.

“Come on, let’s go home” Draco added, to stop this strange obsession that Potter had since he woke up this morning.

It worked because he raised his green irises in his grey orbs and nodded silently. He finally released the handle and let his arm fall heavily against his side.

They made the reverse path and crossed the hospital corridors to reach the exit. Draco regularly glanced behind him, frowning as he saw Harry dragging his feet, his head firmly down and his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Maybe the session didn’t go well?

He sighed when he arrived in the alley before turning around to find that Potter had still not raised his head and seemed lost in his own thoughts. Saddened, Draco raised a trembling hand to put it on his shoulder. When his hand touched the leather jacket, Harry froze instantly and kept his eyes on the floor, seeming unable to lift them up.

Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow when he thought he heard a whimpering moan from Potter’s lips as he closed his eyes in a wince.

“What's the matter, you hurting or something?”

But Harry suddenly opened his eyes and step back slightly, enough for Draco’s fingers to leave his shoulder.

“No it’s okay, I’m just tired” he sighed, putting one hand on his face.

Draco frowned.

“Then let’s go home quickly so you can rest” he said, reaching out his hand.

Potter’s fingers shyly parted to let appear his beautiful green eyes, too bright, and lay on Draco's palm exposed to the sky, patiently waiting for him to cover it with his own.

Draco held his breath, already imagining Harry refusing to take it. But Potter’s hand slipped slowly from his face to pick up his and squeeze it tightly. Draco then sharply pulled Harry towards him who pushed a gasp of surprise. Draco then released his hand to wrap his arms around Potter's waist and hugged him.

And they Disapparated.

OoOoOoOo

A pop resounded in the vestibule of the house where Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy lived.

The two entangled silhouettes of the owners stood in the middle of the entrance, closely connected and short of breath.

Draco could feel Potter’s beating heart pounding against his bust while his arms firmly surrounded his back in an almost desperate embrace.

Harry was gasping on his shoulder. His chest would hardly rise against his while his warm breath touched his neck and made him shiver. Potter must have misinterpreted his reaction since he froze instantly and raised his arms extended along his flanks to pass them between their pressed bodies against each other.

Draco felt Potter's trembling hands land flat on his chest and apply a slight pressure on it before being abruptly pushed back. He staggered for a moment a little disconcerted by the sudden loss of Potter’s warm body against his own and blinked when he saw him move quickly towards the living room.

Regaining his wits, he hastened to follow him but he did not have time to catch up with him that already Harry locked himself in their room by slamming the door. Draco, who had almost reached it, stretched his arm to grab the handle but suspended his gesture, before closing his fingers in the void.

He squeezed his fist until his knuckles whitened and he closed his eyes, swallowing with difficulty. He sighed out of spite and leaned slightly forward to let his forehead gently rest against the door in a small hollow noise.

Draco bit his lower lip to prevent the tears that he felt rising from his throat to his eyes, where already the moisture was shamefully wetting his lashes. He took a deep breath and turned completely to clasp his back against the door and let himself slide until he met the ground.

With his eyelids tightly closed, he took a moment to calm down and breathe softly, his hands resting on his knees bent against his chest. His fingers tightened on his trousers while his body trembled slightly as he tried in vain not to cry.

Yesterday, he had the audacity to think that everything was going to get better, but today, with some bitterness, realized that Potter was escaping him…

Harry who seemed to be doing better when he had left him last night, had shown himself to be hurtful and distant in his way of being in barely a morning. And even though he seemed troubled by Draco, by regularly squinting on his lips, it was obvious that Potter found it repulsive to be associated with him. Just the way he gauged Draco’s hand, the muscles of his body become tense whenever Draco had the misfortune of simply _touching_ him.

Yes, there was no doubt that Harry was probably disgusted to have any contact with him.

Draco reopened his eyes lined with tears, his lips tightly pinched as he swallowed his sobs at the bottom of his throat.

What he had taken for an opening in Potter’s behaviour was illusory. He knew it now. He was completely wrong about the possibility that _maybe_ Potter was inclined to listen to his feelings and let him get close… But it was not.

And the failure was staggering…

_I just want him to talk to me…_

A bitter little laugh escaped from his throat, in a sound strangled by the tears it contained as much as it could.

He was an idiot…

How could he believe that Potter would trust him enough in just a few days to confide in him? To even feel _sympathy_ for him? Whereas the only memories he had of him were those where he insulted, belittled and humiliated him…

Draco blinked once leaving a single tear rolling along his pale cheek until reaching one of the corners of his lips. He swallowed painfully before opening his mouth slightly and the salty liquid seeped into his mouth and touched his tongue.

He repressed a suffocated sob which made his body flinch and raised his hand to wipe away the trace of his weakness by sniffing. He then raised his eyes to the sky to restrain the last tears that obscured his sight. He brought back the few strands of blond hair that had fallen off behind his ear and breathed long to give himself the courage to stand up and face the rest of the day.

He had to do something to stop thinking about Harry, no more thinking at all.

The pain that had taken possession of his heart seemed to be digging a deeper abyss as he thought of him, gradually crumbling his hopes of seeing Potter one day again himself.

Draco went to the kitchen to prepare lunch. To occupy his mind, to make the void so that the suffering he felt permeating his thoughts did not extend into his muscles, preventing him from moving forward and nailing him permanently to the ground.

He needed to clear his head because if he kept going down that slippery slope, he knew he couldn’t get up.

Draco had learned to overcome his fears by working with Harry, because he always helped him to show the best of himself, repeating to him that he was a good person and that it was normal to have moments of weakness.

He remembered that Harry had confessed to him that he too had a dark side, that all who thought him a _saint_ were badly mistaken. Because he sometimes had dark thoughts, and if he repressed them, it didn’t stop him from thinking about them for a long time.

So he tried not to lose face despite the difficulty of the situation, but it was so complicated.

How could he show courage when Harry wasn’t there to help him?

Draco was still snorting, wiping away the last tears that were hanging from his eyelashes with the back of his hand.

He was a Malfoy, for fuck’s sake! He had to cut through what he felt so he wouldn’t show it.

He had to keep in mind that the one who shared his life would come back to him, even if he had to wait a long time. He would wait.

_Forever…_

He waved his hand to light the stove fire and take out the ingredients to prepare the meal.

He frantically blinked his eyelids to do the correct focusing behind the damp which was slowly beginning to dissipate in his eyes. Draco then raised his wand in front of the cupboards to take out the plates and cutlery that he had carefully arranged on the table.

While all the utensils were sharpening around him, he went to the sink to splash fresh water on his face, basking in the goodness of the water as it dripped down his skin. He then took a cloth to sponge off the few drops that were slipping on his face and sighed into the cloth that he kept for a moment against his skin, with his eyes closed.

He then rested the cloth and glanced at the enchanted objects that prepared the meal before leaving for the living room. He hesitated for a moment in front of one of the closets then sighed before opening it to take a glass.

He felt absolutely unable to return to work for today. He was in dire need of a break and alcohol was the best way he knew to cloud his mind.

Never mind the delay he would take in making his last potions, he would send an owl to warn his superiors that he would not come back this afternoon.

He settled into the sofa and conjured a bottle of Fire whiskey which he opened before pouring a glass. He fixed the liquid which he caused to swirl in his hand, he carried it to his lips to drown his discomfort, to obscure his too many dark thoughts.

He winced to the taste acre of the alcohol which burned his throat and chest where a sweet heat enveloped him. Draco dug himself into the back of the sofa by placing his glass against his thigh and laid his eyes on the extinguished fireplace that he lit by waving his hand.

He took another sip of whiskey, staring at the orange flames dancing in the hearth, vainly trying to warm up the bitter cold that he felt in the depths of his heart. A sad smile stretched his lips as he recalled the happy moments he spent with Harry in the living room. Both of them reading a book about their field of choice, before one of them gets a little closer, begging his attention.

He closed his eyes, feeling the knot he had in his stomach tie more. A strange impression of suffocating his chest painfully compressing as the grief slowly took over.

Draco has clenched his teeth to repress another crisis of tears and gripped his glass firmly between his fingers before carrying it back to his mouth to finish the contents.

He took off from the couch to grab the bottle with a trembling hand and pour another drink. The bottle neck hit the edge of the glass, spilling a little of the liquid that flowed between his fingers and left a few drops on the coffee table. Draco swore out loud, resting the whiskey and shaking his hand to drop the rest of the viscous alcohol.

“Accio cloth” he grumbled, reaching out to the kitchen.

Once he had received the rag, he wiped his hand before vaguely wiping out the small drops that sprinkled the coffee table. But fate was against him and he stumbled on the bottle of whiskey that staggered dangerously before falling completely. The liquid escaped in great waves and rolled to the carpet under the coffee table.

“Holy shit!”

He threw the rag on the table, before sighing of spite. He waved his wand to cast a quick cleaning spell, noticing that it trembled in his hand. Or rather that his hand was seized by small convulsions.

He had to calm down.

Draco closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to take the time to refocus.

When he reopened them, they put themselves on the door of his room, the irrepressible urge to go and see Harry to talk to him.

No, it couldn’t go on anymore, he really had to smooth things over, at least to calm the burning desire to hold him again against him. He needed to regain that complicity which he had seen the day before and which had made him shamefully hope.

Glimpse a piece of truth to keep from definitively withering away.

So he hardly got up from the couch, leaning on the armrest so as not to fall down and walked with a nervous step towards the door where Harry was.

Draco did not bother knocking, all his mind being closely focused on Potter.

When he opened the door, he expected to find him lying in bed, perhaps even completely asleep. He already imagined himself watching him sleep, his eyes running through the features of his face as his ears filled with his calm and slow breathing.

But Potter was standing next to the shelf, holding something in his hand that he identified as the cork of a bottle. Draco frowned before opening wide his eyes, realizing that Harry was closing the vial that allowed access to the room where the Pensine was.

Potter suspended his hand when he heard him enter and tensed up immediately before turning his head towards him. The anaesthetic effects of alcohol disappeared very quickly replaced by anger as Draco squeezed the grip firmly in his hand.

“What were you doing?”

Harry answered nothing and turned his face away to report what he was supposed to do before Draco showed up unannounced. He watched Harry close the bottle, making very slow gestures.

Draco let his anger take over. Never mind, if after that, Harry hated him, it was too serious. Especially since he had already warned him!

"Fuck, Potter, you know it’s dangerous, I already told you! Why did you go back?” he hissed, between his teeth.

Potter abandoned the cork and stared at him with his incredibly green eyes, in a determined gaze that took Draco's breath away for a moment.

“’Cause I needed answers!”

Draco sighed with exasperation before releasing the handle and brutally pushing back the door that went against the wall in a thud.

“Well, I hope you found them because this is the last time you touch that bloody vial!”

He then moved rapidly in his direction, pushing Harry in his path to move the vial. Raising his arm to grab the bottle, he was abruptly stopped by Potter who grabbed his wrist, preventing him from going to the end.

Draco turned his eyes on Potter’s hand and clenched his teeth, suppressing the urge to rip it off.

“Potter… Let go of me”

“No”

Draco raised his eyes to Harry and raised his eyebrows when he saw his determined gaze as he squeezed his hand tighter on his wrist.

He was about to speak when Potter pulled him forward, snatching a gasp of surprise, while his bust met his own.

Draco felt his whole body tense with apprehension. His face was just a few inches from the one of Potter who was staring at him, his hand moving slowly to his to interlace their fingers. He lowered his eyes to their folded hands and fixed them for a moment before lifting them up to Potter’s face, puzzled.

“What-”

But Harry didn’t give him time to ask what he was going to do.

"I’m tired of fighting, it’s just-" he began, turning his eyes to a corner of the room and squeezing his lips tightly.

Draco held his breath, unable to detach his gaze from Potter’s face.

Potter’s fingers made a slight pressure on his hand, before he deigned to look at him again.

“It’s too complicated, I don’t want to do that anymore” he blew, almost crushing his hand into his own as his burning gaze was already falling on Draco’s lips.

Draco saw clearly the burning desire illuminating Potter’s gaze as he stared at his mouth. Harry’s lips opened as he slowly leaned his head to the side and brought his face close to his. Draco tensed up instantly, while Potter’s eyelids were lowered, showing a last green glow before closing completely by reducing the gap between their lips.

He did not yet fully realize when the cold of the glasses met his cheekbones. He was just as terrified when the tip of Potter’s nose plunged into his cheek, his warm breath subtly caressing the bottom of his face. He completely stopped breathing when Harry’s lips were shyly resting on his own. Just a touch, as if he wasn’t quite sure he was entitled to it.

Draco still held his breath when the kiss intensified, Potter’s mouth pressed more firmly against his, while their fingers tightened more strongly between them. He could see the black lashes trembling slightly behind the glasses, while Harry’s free arm surrounded his waist to bring him a little closer.

Potter’s fingers left his and grab firmly on one of his hips. Harry grabbed his lips avidly while his hands desperately tried to get under Draco's shirt by pulling heavily on it. He ended up clumsily pulling the garment out of his pants and plunged his fingers immediately below to touch his belly.

Draco blinked, feeling Potter’s hands all over him, catching, and pinching every inch of his skin. Harry seemed on fire against him, his sudden gestures uncertain, exploring his body to get to know him, redrawing his muscles irregularly, like a simple novice. And that’s when he realized he was.

Potter was just a neophyte who certainly didn’t understand what he was doing.

So, Draco grabbed his arms to gently push them away, stopping the awkward kiss at the same time. A plaintive moan escaped from Harry’s lips as Draco pulled his hands out from under his shirt, squeezing Potter’s wrists between his fingers.

“Stop. Please, stop!” he yelled.

Potter abruptly opened his eyes and stared at him strangely, burning desire still shining in the back of his green eyes. He took a step forward, seeming to want to resume where they had stopped but Draco interrupted him once again by forcing on his wrists.

Harry frowned and stared at him with incomprehension, visibly seeking to know the reason why they stopped kissing.

“I don’t know what he took from you but you’re not in your normal state, you don’t know what you’re doing” Draco said.

Potter wrinkled his eyes.

“Of course, I do!”

Draco gave him a bitter grin while shaking his head.

"You don’t understand, it’s not you, you-”

“No, _you_ don’t understand!” Harry yelled.

Draco frowned as he looked at him, trying to identify what he might have been thinking at that moment. A strange distress took place in Potter’s eyes as the features of his face deformed in a certain pain, as if he seemed wounded.

“Please… I need it… I _want_ it!” he begged, in a voice that Draco didn’t know but that definitively broke something in him.

Draco’s shoulders were slowly sagging, and he released the pressure on Harry’s wrists, who took advantage of it to free himself completely. They stared like this for a few moments. Draco holding his breath before the unmistakably determined look of Potter.

Then Harry took a step forward, shyly lifting one of his hands and putting it on one of his cheeks. Draco could feel the warmth of Potter’s fingers against his skin, his thumb moved gently in a slight touch that accentuated the heartbeat against his chest.

His eyelids lowered slowly under the touch and he leaned his head slightly to the side to take advantage of this hand that inflamed all his senses. He then picked up his own to put it on, grabbing Potter’s fingers and squeezing them between his fingers. He gently shifted them to his mouth to gently kiss them with the tip of his lips.

Potter’s eyes darkened instantly when his mouth met his fingers, avidly following his gesture as Draco kissed them one by one, gradually lowering into the hollow of his palm where he laid a burning kiss.

Harry closed his eyes. A trembling moan escaped from his lips, while Draco continued to kiss his palm, tracing the curves of his hand down to his wrist. He bit the flesh before licking it, making him shiver against his lips.

Draco then moved Potter’s hand to place it against his own neck. Potter’s fingers clung to him as if he were about to fall, as he slowly opened his eyes veiled by desire to look at him. Harry looked at him for a moment before pressing firmly on his neck to force him to come closer, also moving forward to once again delight his lips with a trembling kiss.

Unlike the first kiss, this one was much more assertive. Potter’s mouth moved against his own, the fingers of his hand stroking his skin up to his hair, which he grabbed firmly, accentuating the kiss.

Draco hung his hands on Harry’s hips, losing himself to his soft lips that he didn’t think he could taste for a long time.

Maybe even never again.

But Potter was there, holding him against him as his tongue pushed against his mouth, begging to be able to enter. Draco’s lips opened, leaving Harry free to play with his tongue, intertwining it, sucking it, making him moan with pleasure.

Draco let his hands wander under Potter’s T-shirt, redrawing his fall of kidney, climbing up to his shoulder blades, then passed his shoulders to stop on his chest, tickling the small pieces of flesh that he felt hardened under his fingers.

Harry moaned against his lips, his breath suffocated inside Draco’s mouth, while his free hand found its way back to Draco’s belly and palpated his abs, the muscles contracting under his touch.

Potter’s fingers found his belt and began to loosen it, but Draco stopped him by grabbing his hand and at the same time slowed down the kiss that was becoming urgent.

“Slowly…” he whispered against Harry’s lips, taking his hand away and resting it wisely on one of his hips.

Harry let himself be done without flinching, groping his lips with small kisses, moving to the corner before tracing the line of his jaw down to his neck. Draco felt Harry’s tongue burn him there, then his teeth bite the fine skin, tearing away a new moan.

Potter’s body was now frantically rubbing against his, panting loudly as his warm breath crashed into the hollow of his neck. One of his thighs positioned itself between his legs, encountering the painful erection of Draco who bitten his own lip hard not to scream.

Pushing his head back, Draco hung firmly on Harry’s shoulders, following his back-and-forth movements. He pressed his body a little more against him until he felt Harry’s erection touch his own making them moan together.

Draco couldn’t believe what was going on.

Just a few minutes ago, he was convinced that he was disgusting Potter and that Potter couldn’t stand having him around. He never imagined that the reason was something else.

Harry had apparently repressed his desire for him until he finally snapped because it was too complicated to keep it in him.

Potter, who licked his neck, his teeth biting his flesh to suffocate his moans as his heart beat against his chest echoing against Draco’s bust.

Harry, who rubbed himself against him, his erection touching his through their pants, while Draco held his arms firmly, his forehead resting against one of his shoulders.

Harry’s gestures were becoming more and more precise, though utterly desperate to touch as much as they could, tasting his skin wherever he had access. Draco’s body trembled every time his cock wanked against Potter’s, Harry’s moaning accentuating his burning desire to free himself.

Because he couldn’t stand to feel Harry go against him, the scent of his skin filled his nostrils and put his mouth against his shoulder to delight in the spicy taste of Potter’s skin.

The muscles of his lower belly were contracting painfully, indicating that he was nearing the end. So he encircled Potter’s back with his arms, pinned it totally against his body and accentuated his desperate gestures.

Harry also moved in a more vigorous rhythm, his moaning becoming more and more raucous, less and less spaced as his hands grabbed both the skin of his back and his blond hair, which he pulled between his fingers.

Draco had his mouth glued to Potter’s shoulder, panting heavily as he pressed his back with his arms. Feeling the orgasm far too close, he slowly backed away to seal his lips to Potter’s.

The kiss was fiery and just as desperate as their gestures. For too long Draco had wanted Harry and kept suppressing his desire to touch him, to have Potter against him.

And now that he had him, he was completely out of his mind.

Potter’s skin burned him, consumed him with pleasure, his lips were soft and warm, his tongue embracing his was moist and his taste was incredibly tasty. Draco’s muscles suddenly contracted as his fingers sank into the flesh of Harry’s shoulders and he was struck by a lightning orgasm.

He came in a raucous and deep moan, attenuated in Potter’s mouth. His hands released the pressure they were exerting and fell down along his arms. He opened his eyes to see only the darkness, vaguely distinguishing the reflection of Potter’s glasses. He blinked while Harry still kissed him so eagerly.

Draco could feel Potter’s fingernails crawling into the flesh of his back, scratching his skin on one of his shoulder blades while little black dots danced before his eyes. Harry came in turn, pulling heavily on Draco’s hair as his head tipped back and broke the kiss. A raucous and heavy moan escaped from his half-open lips that Draco saw totally now.

His breath stuck in his chest at the delightful sight of Potter, prey to the incredible orgasm that had just finished him off.

So they stayed a few seconds, Harry’s fingers slipping from his hair to fall back on his neck as his head bent forward and ran into the hollow of his neck. Draco did the same, his forehead going to bump against Potter’s shoulder, slowly recovering from his own orgasm.

Their jerky breaths filled the room and their warm breaths crushed each other on their still tightly bound, oozing bodies.

Draco closed his eyes by feeling Potter’s hand fondling his neck and raised his arms to encircle his back again in a possessive embrace.

A slight smile stretched the lips of Draco who felt at last in his place. Harry, in the hollow of his arms, his heart beating softly against his chest, meeting his own in a similar rhythm. Then he leaned his head to the side pressing his cheek against his shoulder, his mouth meeting the skin of Potter’s neck where he dropped a light kiss.

Potter shuddered under the touch of his lips, while Draco’s tongue licked the salty taste of his sweat and revelled in its subtly spicy flavour.

For nothing in the world he would have missed this moment.

And even though he wasn’t quite sure what caused Harry to throw himself at him in that way, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of him so they could talk about it. Because that’s what they had to do, he was undoubtedly aware of it, but for now he still wanted to feel Potter’s hot breath against his skin, to shudder under the shy caresses of Harry’s fingers that tickled the small hair on his neck.

Then he sighed, allowing himself a break of a few moments before having to stop the magic moment.

Extinguishing his mind just for the time of one last fleeting caress.


	7. Phantasmagoria

The slight rustling of a cloth grazed his ears, indicating that he had to be partially conscious and therefore not completely asleep.

A few murmurs followed, prompting him to want to open his eyelids firmly glued. This proved more complicated than it appeared. They seemed to be tied to the bottom ones, as if his eyes had been closed for too long.

He forced his eyebrows as high as he could, slowly loosening the mucous membranes to glimpse a net of light seeping between his eyelashes. With his eyelids half closed, he did not distinguish much but it was enough to see some silhouettes standing in front of him.

It seemed to him that they were moving around. There were indecisive murmurs that tickled his ears without he could understand their meaning even if he guessed that they were destined for him.

Something sweet touched his forehead, certainly a hand, whose heat irradiated him and he almost wanted to go back to sleep. But it withdrew as quickly as it had come and the sudden loss of this comfort kept him awake.

He tried to talk but only a strangled sound came out of his throat and made him cough. In a mechanical reflex, he tried to straighten himself out to avoid choking but this simple movement required a considerable effort and a new moan of pain whistled from his lips when the bones of his back cracked under the shock.

Hands held on his arms to prevent him from going further and a slight pressure brought him back to his bed where his head fell heavily against the pillow he felt encompassing him. This had the merit of taking off a little more his eyelids that he blinked several times without ever succeeding in opening them completely for that reason.

He seemed to hear someone pronounce his first name but, like his vision, his hearing was partially impaired and the sounds that came to him did not resemble words he knew.

These bands of sounds were whistling and resounding inside his head, echoing against the walls of his skull forcing him to bite his lips so as not to scream. He became totally incapable of it when simple groans struggled to extricate themselves from his mouth, burning the inside of his trachea.

He coughed again and leaned his painful head to the side, closing his eyelids tightly between them.

He wanted to squeeze his fists but wasn’t even sure he had the strength to do it. The nerve endings at the end of his fingers vaguely touched the fabric he felt surrounded him. His perception of his environment slowly increased as he searched for his breath amidst his clearings of throat and the tremors that caused him his cough.

The hands continued to touch him over what was supposed to be his clothes. He wasn’t entirely sure, but none of them seemed to come into direct contact with his skin.

His heart beat faster in his chest, beating against his temples, mingling with the incessant murmurs of the people around him.

He wanted to yell at them to stop touching him, to stop trying to talk to him, to let him die and to shut up forever.

He began to feel his toes itching, with slight tremors running through him when he tried to bend them, which had the effect of moving his body to the side, tearing off a new moan of pain.

He felt like he was rediscovering his body, which every nerve ending woke up with him and made him realize that he was alive. His limbs seemed to free themselves from the bonds of which they had been tightly attached, thus letting his muscles breathe, which he felt contract painfully at intervals.

Just feeling the weight of his body was exhausting. The rough sheets against his skin irritated him, as if he had spent several months lying in a bed without ever getting up.

Fully conscious of the hands that surrounded his arms, he wanted to release them from their grip but only managed to move a little more into the bed, the fabric sliding all around, burning his skin.

The murmurs became more distinct voices, ranging from the deep to the most acute, indicating to him that both men and women were at his side.

He tried once again to beat his eyelids, letting a dreadfully white light filter out and burn his retina when he managed to open his eyes completely.

His eyesight was blurred, a sign that his glasses weren’t on his nose. He blinked several times to focus on something close enough to distinguish it and met the rounded edge of a cabinet right next to the white bars of his bed.

He frowned when they seemed familiar to him, searching in his memory where he had already seen this kind of furniture, folding his eyelids under the white light that always attacked his pupils as much.

Slowly looking up his eyes, he saw what appeared to him to be curtains hiding other beds with bars similar to his own and felt his breath block in his lungs when he recognized the place.

He hardly swallowed before carefully turning his head to meet the blurry faces of his best friends who stood at his bedside, framing him on either side of the bed.

He was particularly relieved not to see their face surely worried about his condition which he imagined quite pitiful at that moment.

“Harry… Are you… can you hear us?” Hermione’s voice blew, still a little diffuse inside his head.

He tried to answer her, but the words died in the back of his throat, only to pull out a small sound strangled and he carried his hand to his neck by reflex.

“Don’t force it, mate.” Ron’s voice intimated, to his right.

Harry turned his eyes in his direction without seeing him, simply nodding his head in response.

“God, Harry… You scared us so much…” Hermione added, in a trembling voice.

He assumed that she was about to cry and was all the more satisfied not to face her tears-filled gaze.

“We thought you’d never wake up…” Ron raised, in a breath.

Harry blinked his eyes as he released the pressure around his throat. It may have been a considerable advantage, but it was still very uncomfortable not to see them completely clear.

“Yes… I went through all the books I found to get you out of there but none of them had the solution.” Hermione blew, before snorted gently.

“Dumbledore told us that you were the only one who could do it, but you know Hermione, always wanting to prove that the answers are necessarily in her books.” Ron sighed, and Harry was convinced that he had just rolling his eyes.

“Somebody had to look for a solution instead of whining in your girlfriend’s arms.” Hermione hissed, and Harry guessed his furious gaze without difficulty.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with looking for a little comfort when your best friend has been asleep for _two months_ with no way to bring him back and _no way_ to make sure he can _do it_ _alone_.” Ron retorted.

Harry frowned trying to assimilate what he had just taught him.

_Wait… What the fuck?!_

He wanted to talk but a hoarse sound came out of his throat and made him swallow painfully.

He saw the faces of his friends turning sharply towards him and completely released his neck to point to his eyes with his hand, the other firmly clenching the sheets between his fingers. It had become unbearable not to see them and he felt that he would need to be in complete possession of his means to face what would follow.

Ron seemed to understand his gesture since he leaned to the side to catch something and reached out in his direction a few seconds later.

Harry grabbed what he guessed to be his glasses and put them on his nose. The familiar features of his best friends finally appeared to him quite sharp and anxious as he had expected.

He frowned, noticing that they seemed different from the Ron and Hermione with whom he had exchanged in recent days. Younger, undoubtedly wearing their Gryffindor’s-coloured dress with the prefect badge pinned on it.

Blinking, he quickly looked around the room to see that he was well in the infirmary of Hogwarts as he had suspected. He squished on the edges of his glasses which had regained their usual round appearance and a violent panic rose up in his throat to prevent him from breathing.

He felt himself pale and it must be seen because Hermione rose suddenly by calling Mrs Pomfrey with a loud voice.

Ron, on the other hand, grabbed a drink from the nightstand and filled it with water before he gave it so quickly that he dropped a few drops on the sheets.

Harry seized it with one trembling hand and had to use his second to hold the glass while he was drinking. He forced himself to swallow and winced when he felt the water flowing into his trachea, barely passing the barrier that separated it from his stomach.

A few seconds passed before Pomfrey appeared in his field of vision. In two quick steps, she was already next to him performing diagnostic spells while frowning on concentration eyebrows.

Harry watched her, unable to detach his eyes from the complicated symbols that were floating before him. He imagined that some of them had to be his vital signs and with apprehension, tensed his hands a little more against the glass he was holding.

He relaxed slightly when a corner smile stretched over the nurse’s lips before she made disappear the symbols, in smoke.

“Well, Mr. Potter, it looks like you’re almost out of the woods. Apart from a few minor injuries, the rest works perfectly!” She said, nodding her head.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as Hermione stared with a radiant smile.

Harry, on the other hand, was not as relieved as he would have liked. Apparently he was fine, but it still didn’t explain what he was doing there when he remembered being with Malfoy and they—

He opened wide his eyes, feeling the heartbeat accelerate to the last memory he had of Malfoy and especially of what they had done…

His breathing became trapped in his chest as he remembered the last moments in his company when he had allowed himself to be invaded by the pleasure he himself had initiated.

It was difficult for him to swallow when he felt the red sticking up his cheeks to have so much let things go so badly and tightened his grip on his glass until his fingers completely circle it and his nails got into his skin..

“Harry? Are you okay?”

Harry blinked once, shaking his head to regain his senses and turned his gaze in his to her. She frowned, her previous smile having left her lips to leave only a very fine line showing all her worry.

Harry wanted to talk again, to ask what had happened, what he was doing there, how he woke up a few days before in a world he didn’t know, where he could not remember anything and why he was back in the one he had left and never thought he would find…

Ron talked about two months, was that true? Was it really two fucking months that he was … asleep?

How could it have been so much when he was convinced that he had spent only three days in this almost perfect future if we omitted the fact that he was living with Malfoy?

Was it real? Did it really happen, or did he just imagine it? Or did he just dream it?

He opened his mouth and forced a little on his voice, letting out a hoarse sound that burned his throat painfully.

“It’s no use forcing Mr. Potter, it’s normal that not using your voice takes her a while to come back. But don’t worry, you should have some of it back in a few hours.” Pomfrey explained.

She made a move of her wand and conjured a small green bottle with a crystal-like transparent cap on top.

“Please swallow this potion three times a day until it is completely covered.” she ordered, handing him the vial.

Harry loosened one of his hands from the glass and felt his nerves pull from having too long been roughed up and taken the vial.

He unbuttoned the bottle and swallowed a sip of a bitter orange liquid that engulfed the entire trachea, like a protective shield sticking against its walls.

A feeling of softness invaded him as the pain he had felt earlier gradually faded away to leave only a vague memory of the burn she had left.

He felt able to say a few words, only a few to ask what he wanted to know the most.

He prepared to open his mouth again but Pomfrey was faster.

“I would ask you now to let Mr. Potter rest, he’s going to need a lot of quiet to get his voice back.”

Ron and Hermione nodded their heads not without a last smile before rising and moving away from his bedside.

“We’ll be back soon, Harry!” Hermione promised, her eyes betraying the restlessness that had not left her.

“Don’t worry, mate, it’s going to be okay now!” Ron added, with a little smile on his lips.

Harry’s lips stretched slightly, happy to find his best friends as he knew them, although the questions that shook his head remained unanswered.

He watched them walk away to the door of the infirmary and give him one last wave of the hand before definitively closing the door behind them.

He looked down on the vial he was still holding before putting it back up and putting it on the bedside table next to his bed. He looked at the white sheets of mediocre quality compared to those of his four-poster bed which he was anxious to find.

What happened to him? Did he really make it all up?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and exhaled for a long time to calm the heartbeat he felt redoubled to the thought that perhaps this whole story had never happened.

Malfoy’s face crossed his eyelids and his heart missed a beat, imagining that the last time he saw him was surely only a dream and that his subconscious had completely derailed.

He should have felt relieved of this new hypothesis but strangely, his heart compressed into his chest and a bitter taste dyed his saliva.

He raised his head when he heard the door clicking, his heart pounding with apprehension that Malfoy was passing it. It was stupid, but he still had trouble thinking he was _home_. In his dream -if it were a dream- he was convinced that Malfoy would have also been at his bedside, that he would even have stayed so as not to leave him alone while his friends left.

He was however delighted to see Dumbledore appear in the tangle of the door and head in his direction. He had a small smile at the corner of his lips as he moved forward with a slow and confident step, the rustling of his red dress breaking the heavy silence that surrounded them.

“Good evening, Harry.” he said, standing right in front of the foot of his bed.

Harry wanted to answer him, but only a slight murmur came out.

Dumbledore's smile stretched slightly as he raised his hand in a sign that was meant to be comforting, certainly suspecting his mind set at that moment.

“I imagine that you have a lot of questions to ask me, even though you are unable to ask them.” he announced, looking at him over his half-moon glasses.

Harry nodded silently, trying to get up a little bit in bed but only managed to pull out a moan of pain closer to the wheezing.

"Also, I think that in view of your condition, which is at least stable but still uncertain, according to Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, we will have to postpone our little discussion when you have completely recovered the use of speech." Dumbledore added, in a soft but firm voice.

Harry frowned, anger mingled with tiredness as he gradually realized that he was going to have to wait an indefinite time before getting his fucking answers.

“I… It… must…” he began, forcing on his voice before a straight cough took him back.

“I understand this is very disturbing for you, Harry, but you’re in no condition yet for me to explain anything to you.” Dumbledore said, in a softer tone than the last.

Harry took a deep breath, coughing a little while more tears filled his eyes under the pain that burned his throat. He was squeezing the sheets tightly to prevent himself from losing control and smashing everything he had in his hand, although he was not convinced that he could coordinate all his members to do so.

He felt exhausted although he obviously slept for some time, he did not feel at all rested. On the contrary, it seemed to him that his body was drained of all its energy and that tiredness was taking hold of him.

“Sleep now. Because if you think you don’t need it, I can guarantee that your body won’t last long if you don’t rest.” Dumbledore concluded, with a small enigmatic smile.

Harry, who felt exhaustion catching up with him, could only blink to try to keep himself awake, unable to make the slightest movement to prevent him from leaving. He dropped himself heavily on the bed, dropping the sheets he had barely held on, and fixed the white ceiling with an absent air.

He knew he was going to fall asleep soon, maybe a side effect of the potion? Or as Dumbledore said, his body was not in much better shape at the moment.

He would have wanted to be able to yell at him that he had enough strength to hear what he had to say, that he didn’t give a shit about tiredness and that only the answers to his fucking questions mattered at that moment.

But his eyelids were so heavy that he now found it difficult to keep them open and his mind was far too clouded for him to properly digest the explanations that would be provided to him.

Harry felt left amidst the hospital linens and the pleasant silence that surrounded him. It did not take more than a few minutes for him to abandon himself to sleep and definitively close his eyes.

OoOoOoO

He was flying on his Firebolt, giving direction to his team during a Quidditch workout when the slight squeak of a door that opens sounds inside his skull.

Harry slowed down on his broom while stopping the instructions he was explaining to Angelina about the passing techniques he had read in _“The Quidditch Through the Ages”_ and reached out to concentrate on the steps that resonated across the stadium.

He turned his head in their direction but saw only the bleachers where only a few students were present to encourage them. He thought he could ear the rustling of cloth, like the rustling of a dress that rubs when one moves and the flapping of the sides that hit the ground under the effect of the wind.

The stadium around him became a little more blurred but the training continued and Angélina had already left, in possession of the Quaffle, towards the opposing goals.

Harry squished his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly but the bleachers had become abstract and the students he had seen were no longer visible and no longer looked like coloured spots.

The steps had stopped and only the noise of the brooms continued to whisper in his ears while his team members were busy, overtaking him to fulfil the role assigned to them.

He then began looking for the Golden Snitch and blinked his eyes when he realized that even the sky seemed cloudy. He looked around and noticed that his teammates were becoming more and more difficult to distinguish.

His vision became cloudier while he was convinced that he still had his glasses on his nose.

He shook his head, hoping to recover his spirits and thus recover the sight correctly but when he rested his eyes on the decor, it was as if the whole stadium had mixed together to form only an abstract painting and devoid of details.

He felt like a presence next to him and turned swiftly on his broom to face him. But again, no one was near, only that feeling of warmth that emanates from a body that is beside you.

Harry frowned, more and more disturbed by the strangeness of the situation, searching in his memories if he had ever been confronted with such particular events without finding a single one.

And then suddenly a distinct noise touched his ears, so he stood still to try to identify it. It was a breath. It was slow and quite weak but seemed deep enough for him to hear it so closely.

A warm breath fell on his face and he was convinced that he was dreaming.

The minty smell that he inspired fills his nostrils, electrifying all his senses and he feels shivering.

Everything became clear in a few seconds in his mind, he was dreaming and someone was watching him sleep.

As if his subconscious had needed his blessing, the colour scheme that surrounded him slowly faded away to make room only for the dark, like a night without stars where he felt suffocated.

Fully aware of his condition, he struggled against himself to wake up and frowned on eyelids that he felt closed now to try to open them.

The warm breath had finally left his face now and the fabric noises were back, seeming much closer now that he was regaining consciousness.

_Come on, faster!_

He absolutely wanted to wake up before the person at his bedside left the room without him being able to see who it was.

His footsteps moved away as he finally opened his eyes and frantically pounded his eyelids to accustom his eyes to darkness.

He turned his head sharply to the side in the hope of coming face to face with the unknown person he had heard, but he was already leaving the room.

Harry only had time to see a dark-coloured figure closing the door and a few strands of light hair flying when the door closed.

He blinked his eyes before frowning.

He had fallen asleep with his glasses on his nose, too exhausted to have had the strength to remove them when Dumbledore had left him.

A light perfume enveloped the air at the place where the silhouette had probably been observing him a few minutes earlier and the subtle and fresh smell made him open wide his eyes when he thought to recognize it.

The heartbeats of his heart doubled as he breathed full lung of that particular slightly peppery smell that he was convinced he had already smelled.

He swallowed hardly by staring at the now closed door where the unknown man who had come was standing, watching him? See how he was?

His fingers tightened on the blanket which he had not even remembered to hold until then and it was increasingly evident who was there before he finally woke up.

_Malfoy…_

He was not entirely sure of this, but the probability that Malfoy had come to the infirmary that night had materialized without difficulty in his mind since the perfume had reached him.

Harry knew he should have worried about his heart beating too fast at the mere thought that Malfoy was here moments ago. That it was not normal to have the breath running as soon as the very idea that Malfoy was perhaps observing him and that the heat taking possession of his belly was more than displaced.

But holy shit, nothing made sense in his fucking head for days. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually made it back to the world he knew.

Perhaps it was still an invention of his deranged mind that showed him what he wanted to see? Or a spell we cast on him to make him think he was back when in fact he was still stuck in another reality?

Harry really didn’t know what to think.

All he knew was that the last person he’d seen before he woke up here was Malfoy and that he’d made his completely lose his mind.

All his senses had increased tenfold when he had rubbed against him in search of liberation.

He needed to satisfy all that desire crap he’d accumulated over the last few days for Malfoy.

Harry squeezed the sheets a little more between his fingers to the bitter memory that this unfortunate slip left him and closed his eyes in the hope of annihilating him for good.

Did it really happen?

Maybe he just imagined it after all and didn’t have to worry about the confused feelings that were rushing inside him when he was thinking about Malfoy and his fucking grey eyes.

The only way to forget everything that had happened was still to have answers but Dumbledore had been very clear about it and he had to wait until he had recovered a semblance of voice and got back on his feet to tell him all the truth about this story.

He may have been completely awakened by now, but he felt exhausted by the weight of memories which perhaps was not and was not surprised when the tiredness fell on him like an anvil in the midst of all his reflections.

Obviously, just thinking was a hardship in his current state, and he clearly didn’t want to fight it while knowing it would lead to nothing good.

He nevertheless took the trouble to remove his glasses this time, delicately placing them on the night table before dropping his head against his pillow. He turned his eyes to the door, just in case the silhouette with Malfoy’s perfume had the idea of coming back to see him and fell asleep in just a few seconds at that last thought.

OoOoOoO

When he woke up the next morning, the first reflex he had was to grab his glasses and put them on his nose and look at the door. It lasted only a few seconds but enough to make him want to hit himself for being such a git.

It was a stupid reflex. It was obvious that if Malfoy had waited for the night to come to see him, it was that he had absolutely no intention of being caught watching Harry in his sleep. Harry knew very well that he would not suddenly appear just because he wanted to.

He wasn’t even sure it was Malfoy, but given the beating of his traitor of heart, he had high hopes.

Shaking his head to cast off his inappropriate emotions, he turned his eyes to the potion that Pomfrey had left him the night before and held out his arm to grab it.

He opened it and drank a sip while wincing under the bitter taste that he felt slipping on his tongue. He suppressed a chill when the liquid spread throughout his body, at the same time relieving his wound trachea.

Harry scraped his throat before swallowing the rest of the saliva mixed with the last drops of potions and tried to pronounce a few words.

The exercise turned out to be much less painful than the day before and he managed to say "Hello" in a somewhat hoarse voice, still a little too close to the murmur to his liking.

He smiled, relieved to have recovered so quickly a bit of his voice which seemed to no longer work yesterday.

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Potter.” Pomfrey replied, who had just entered the room.

Harry jumped into his bed, not having heard her arrive, and smiled at her, nodding.

“So let’s see where you are today” she declared, standing right beside him, making complicated moves of the wand to cast her diagnostic spell.

The symbols he had seen yesterday appeared, floating before his eyes before Pomfrey rotated them with a wrist move.

Harry could see her eyes squinting as she examined them, not betraying any signs on her face that might show what she thought.

After a few minutes, she made them disappear and turned to him.

“Well. It looks like you’re recovering pretty fast, young man. One more day here and I think tonight you can go back to your dorm for the night.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised to be released so quickly and could not prevent a smile stretching his lips at the prospect of finally finding his bed and his comrades again tonight.

There was a fly in the ointment, however, which, unfortunately, he could not overlook.

What if all this is not true? What if he goes back to the other world before he can talk to Dumbledore and clear things up?

His smile died a little while fear darkens his thoughts.

He swallowed and blinked before shifting his attention to Pomfrey, who had not waited for his answer before heading to her office.

He tried to convince himself that nothing would happen to him by then but when we knew how much he tended to find himself in the most delicate situations at the time he least expected it, it was difficult not to consider.

_It’s going to be okay, everything’s back to normal, you’re going to find Ron and Hermione, and everything’s going to be okay…_

Yeah, except he didn’t know shit about that.

All he had to do was hope that it was true and wait for the day to pass without mishap.

He was anxious to discuss all this with Dumbledore and if he knew that Pomfrey wouldn’t hold him back, he would have already left here to go into his office and confront him with explaining everything he knew.

OoOoOoO

“Don’t worry, mate, we’re not going to ask you to sing Hogwarts' anthem to make sure you can talk again.” Ron laughed, chewing a Chocolate Frog on a chair by his side.

“Can you avoid talking with your mouth full Ronald, it’s particularly annoying!” Hermione winced, staring at him with deep disgust.

“Oh please, no more annoying than you always bitching!” Ron jeered, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not bitching! I’m just saying out loud what everybody’s thinking, right, Harry?” she hissed, turning to him, visibly expecting him to approve what she said.

Harry couldn’t help laughing at the bickering of his best friends, who usually annoyed him but who finally missed him in a few days. They were finally behaving in a way that seemed familiar to him and he felt much more serene to see them like that.

He can’t believe the last time he saw them they were about to get married… Harry really didn’t know how these two could ever end up together. They were far too different to get along!

_Like you and Malfoy…_

He could not help thinking that he and Malfoy also had nothing in common and that absolutely everything opposed them, and yet…

Yet, according to what he had seen, they seemed happy, as did Ron and Hermione. They seemed to have built up a serious couple who loved each other, according to what they said, and Malfoy’s behaviour towards him only accentuated this truth.

He felt his throat tightening when thinking about Malfoy, it was something he wanted to forget, but the memory of what he had done remained firmly anchored in his mind and his low stomach reacted every time he crossed his head.

He cleared his throat before trying to speak.

“Y-you… confirm for me that… we are in year six, right?”

“Of course!” Ron affirmed, “What year do you want us to be?” He asked, crunching into a new Chocolate Frog from which he pulled at the head to pull it out

Harry shrugged his shoulders, unable to argue more.

How could he tell them what he had seen? Dreamed? Lived?

He himself was not sure that it actually happened, and given their place in this reality and his own, he really did not want to talk about it.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m still a little confused…”

“It’s okay Harry, you’ve been in a coma for two months and who knows how you got into this state…” Hermione replied, frowning as she pondered to find the answer to her mute question.

“Only Dumbledore can know, this guy has an answer for everything!” Ron said.

“I hope you’re right…” Harry nodded, looking down on the bed sheets.

“Of course! He may be crazy, but he’s a genius and he’s always been able to explain the unlikely events that happened at this bloody school.”

Harry smiled at him before taking a Cauldron Cake from the box already opened on his bedside table. He chewed it, letting it melt on his tongue to savour its taste before finally swallowing it.

“Ron’s right, Harry. The reason Dumbledore called you into his office tonight is because he’s got to have a theory.” Hermione added, with a small encouraging smile.

Harry gave him back his smile before wedging himself a little more against his pillow. He was still very tired although he slept more than reason in the last few hours, not to mention the two months he had no memories of.

It was as if his body woke up with him, learning to function again after taking a vacation for a certain amount of time. Harry felt like he never recovered, every move every word he uttered was an effort he had to endure.

It drained him of smiling, while the fear ate his bowels but he did not want to worry more his friends who had spent two months moping over his health.

He made the choice not to tell them anything. Because he didn’t know what the consequences would be. Because he didn’t want to talk about the hypothetical life he’d seen unfold, which he probably would have appreciated if it wasn’t about Malfoy…

Harry squeezed his teeth thinking it hadn’t been so horrible after all. As much as he tried to spit on it to comfort himself, he knew it was not entirely true. He had begun to appreciate this improved version of Malfoy and a little more than he ever thought…

“We have to leave you, we have Transfiguration class in five minutes and we still have to cross the entire castle to get there.” Hermione announced, looking at the watch on her wrist.

Ron sighed before giving him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry, mate, we’ll meet in the common room later after your interview with Dumbledore.”

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll meet you later” Harry nodded.

Ron and Hermione rose in a light rustle of dresses and smiled at him again.

“Don’t worry about school, Harry, I already copied you and summed up everything we learned while you were asleep.” Hermione declared.

Harry rebuked a laugh as Ron rolled his eyes behind her.

He had not for a moment doubted that she made sure he got all his classes back when he woke up. The opposite would have surprised him all the more.

“Thanks”

She smiled at him and followed Ron out for their next class.

OoOoOoO

Harry remained alone for more than an hour before the infirmary door opened again on Ginny.

He felt his heart leap into his chest when she appeared in his field of vision. He hadn’t seen her since and he was strangely relieved to see that she was still there.

“Hey!” she said, with a little smile on her lips.

“Hey…” he replied, returning his smile.

“How is the sleeping beauty?” she sneered, before settling down on the chair where her brother had been an hour before.

“Not too bad, I can go back to the dorm tonight, according to Pomfrey.” He announced, straightening himself to be totally seated on his bed.

“Oh, good news, then!” Ginny said, stretching her lips a little more until she discovered her teeth.

Harry nodded silently.

He couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment. He always found her as beautiful as ever, her flamboyant hair falling wisely on her shoulders, her freckles dotting the awn of her nose and her bright orange eyes with sympathy and malice.

She passed her hand in her hair to take it back, directly sending him a slight scent of flower that he so enjoyed. Harry quietly inspired her scent, which immediately relaxed him. He was fully aware of his feelings for Ginny and despite Malfoy, his feelings did not seem to have diminished.

He could not hold a sigh of relief from this crucial information sent directly to him by his heart. Everything would surely come back to normal as he had hoped, even though he was not sure that she felt the same way about him. Knowing that what he was feeling was still present was a small victory that brought him back to the reality he knew.

He did come home and that was enough for him.

“How’s the team? You found a replacement seeker while I was not operational?”

Ginny winced before displaying a plaintive pout.

“None of the people we interviewed were good enough, so I had to trade my place as a chaser to replace you.”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“And that’s a bad thing?” he asked, not understanding his annoyance.

Ginny smiled at him.

“No, but I don’t really feel like I belong there. You’re the seeker, Harry, I’d much rather fly after the quaffle than the snitch.” she explained, winking at him.

Harry laughed.

"I understand," he assured, nodding his head.

There was a pleasant little silence where none of them spoke. Ginny played with a lock of her beautiful hair while Harry let himself be hypnotized by this move. He already felt the tiredness regaining him and his eyes struggled to stay open.

It must have been obvious since Ginny got up right away, the scraping of the chair’s feet made him jump a little.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest, I see you need it”

Harry could only nod and blink his eyes to stay awake until she left.

“See you later, Harry, I hope you’ll be well enough to get back into practice.” she added, in a final wink.

“I intend to!”

She gave him one last smile before heading towards the exit and Harry could only hear the door closing behind her as his eyes closed.

OoOoOoO

He only woke up a few hours later, just in time to take his treatment before Pomfrey told him he could return to the Gryffindor common room if he wished.

Evening was already quite advanced and the time of his appointment with Dumbledore was near so he opted to recover a few more minutes, the time to completely wake up before heading there directly.

He rose slowly, taking care not to rush too much so as not to fall. It had been two months since he had walked long distances.

His short trips to the bathroom didn’t really count and he didn’t want to sink like a fool the first time he went out.

He therefore stood carefully, taking the time to dress with his dress in the colours of the Gryffindors which had deeply missed him the few days he had spent in his other life. He collected his personal belongings which his friends had brought to him in the last 24 hours and slowly walked towards the door not without an inflating apprehension ball in his throat.

Harry didn’t know what awaited him once he meet Dumbledore. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to learn from him -if he really knew what had happened- and the fear that this would not be the case kept the members from moving forward properly.

He sighed while opening the door of the infirmary, trying to silence all the questions that were rushing inside him, knowing that it would lead to nothing to rehash without more information. He was going to see Dumbledore for this very purpose and hoped profoundly to come out of his office with satisfactory answers.

Harry opened the door wide and got ready to go out, his head firmly lowered on his feet when his eyes met a pair of painted shoes.

He froze before getting into the person who was clearly in front of him.

Frowning, he raised his head slowly to see a dress appear different from his own in many ways. Already, the quality of the fabric seemed better and the colour of the inner sides was not that of the Gryffindor but that of the Slytherin judging by the blazon pinned on the bust of the person who stood before him.

Harry raised his eyes higher to meet the cold, grey gaze that had haunted him since he had returned.

_Oh fuck…_

Draco Malfoy faced him, straight as a pike, his eyes betraying surprise as he stared at him as if he didn’t seem to believe it.

A whirlwind of emotions invaded Harry when he began to stare at him. The whiteness of his skin seemed to have captured all the lights lighting up the hallway and it was as if he were shining, dazzling enough for Harry to be forced to squint his eyes. His hair was so blond that they turned white, each wick carefully plated back with wax. His pointed nose and prominent cheekbones accentuated the cold and contemptuous look that he endeavoured to display despite the fear that one could clearly read in his grey eyes.

Harry’s heart hammered his chest, as Malfoy’s older face waved before his eyes. He remembered with disconcerting precision all the physical aspects that he had looked at, touched and felt during the last evening that they had shared.

Fear, desire and envy had made his home in his heart that night and had made him lose ground as never before.

If seeing Ginny again had been pleasant and comforted him in what he felt, with Malfoy it was terrifying. It was so powerful that it took his breath away, grabbed all the air he had in his lungs.

There was no doubt that the Draco Malfoy who stood before him was the version he had always known. The cold and sarcastic character who had ruined his existence since his arrival at Hogwarts. The fucking aristocrat who denigrates everything that he thinks is not worthy of his worth, the pale copy of his own asshole father just good at demeaning others.

Harry had almost forgotten how much he hated him after he had a better version of him. This one had nothing to do with the Malfoy he was looking at. Features drawn from his face with the hard and icy gaze.

However, it was not so much the physical aspect that bothered Harry, but what he felt when he had him in front of him. The beats of his heart redoubled, seeming to be unable to stop, knocking against his temples, preventing him from earing correctly.

Whether it was the sixteen-year-old Malfoy or the twenty-six-year-old, Harry had this strange sensation that crushed his bowels and compressed his stomach. He swallowed hardly, swallowing very little saliva as his throat was suddenly dry.

He couldn’t tell if the urge to throw himself at him was for the purpose of hitting him or kissing him as he was dying to since he knew the taste of his fucking lips.

He blinked his eyes at the impressive flood of emotions that overwhelmed him. He was almost dizzy and nauseous.

_Calm the fuck down!_

Harry took great inspiration to give himself the courage to speak but only a slight murmur passed the barriers of his lips.

“Malfoy…” he blew, couldn’t do more.

This at least had the merit of making him jump slightly before he steps back without letting go of his eyes.

He was frowning, seeming not to believe what he saw when only Harry was standing in front of him. Harry went one step further, determined to understand the strange behaviour displayed by Malfoy but a noise rang on the side making them both turn their heads towards its origin.

One of the portraits on the wall had just knocked over a mug that had now broken on the floor of its decoration and he was struggling to pick up the pieces with his hand.

Harry turned his attention to Malfoy, swiftly turning his head towards him. Malfoy was still staring at the portrait, a muscle in his jaw quivered before he turned his eyes on Harry, breathing difficult from his chest that was struggling to get up.

Harry’s breath stuck in his as he stared at that grey-angled gaze. Her hands had become sweaty and the one still holding the door, slipped a little around the handle.

Malfoy ended up breaking eye contact and quickly escaping in the opposite direction.

Harry blinked his eyes before he let go of the door and started chasing him.

“Malfoy!” he cried to him who was already running down the stairs, probably to get to the dungeons.

He tried to follow him, but the little effort he made was exhausting and he had to give up in the middle of the second staircase to catch his breath.

Harry leaned heavily against the railing by holding his ribs. He was gasping loudly, the air coming straight into his lungs was burning his throat and coming out in a rather disturbing whistle.

It was amazing how terribly diminished his physical abilities seemed. Little black spots began to dance in his field of vision and he had to close his eyes to chase them away.

Swallowing the little saliva that moistened his mouth, he took one last deep breath before exhaling long enough to calm the frantic heartbeat.

Harry didn’t know if the real cause of his heartbeat was running after Malfoy to catch up with him or just running into him when he was dying to since he got back.

Come to think of it, it was pretty unlikely that he’d run into him as soon as he got out of the infirmary. To think he actually came to see him…

Maybe, that was the case after all…

Harry frowned, remembering last night when he really believed that Malfoy was at his bedside while he was sleeping. He was pretty sure it was Malfoy he saw leaving the infirmary when he woke up.

_What if it’s true?_

What if it was him that Malfoy was came to find?

His doubts seemed to be confirmed as to the perfume he had breathed and the few blond strands he had saw flying when the door closed.

The question was, why would he come, especially in the middle of the night?

Harry was trying to gather what little he had, but none of the information they had seemed to match.

The only thing he was particularly sure of was seeing Malfoy again being a fucking shock to which his head and heart were obviously unprepared.

It was clearly not normal what had just happened, he knew it, deep down, Harry had _felt it_ …

It had absolutely nothing to do with how he felt about Ginny when he had saw her again. It had been totally different, almost bland next to the whirlwind of emotions that had passed through him when he found himself facing Malfoy.

Harry swallowed when he felt his chest squeezed and his stomach knotted, thinking back to the grey eyes that had probed him a few minutes before.

Shamefully, he hoped that perhaps Malfoy had experienced feelings similar to his own at that very moment. Because he didn’t think it was possible to feel something that strong for someone. A feeling so powerful that it became painful. And if he wasn’t the only one who lived it, then it wasn’t his own… He wouldn’t be the only person to stand out for his many faculties that made his fucking fame.

If Malfoy had also shared the same emotions, he could claim that it was not an illusion but something real that had happened between them and then Harry would feel a little better.

In the midst of his reflections, he remembered his appointment with Dumbledore and hurried up the stairs where he had stopped to go to his office.

He would find out later about Malfoy, he had to first understand what had happened to him and how it had happened. It was mainly on this story that he had to concentrate to move forward, to clarify the more than confusing situation in which he was entangled.

Then he silenced all the other thoughts undoubtedly turned on Malfoy and his fucking new sensations that were floating inside him and hurried head down to the second floor to recover the answers he had need. The ones that would explain why he came to this.

However, the pain that was compressing his heart remained present, pressing more than necessary on the organ to remind him that, whenever it had something to do with Malfoy, he was in that state…

And even though he had never really paid attention to it before, even though it had been different in the past, his heart never stopped beating harder every time he crossed him…

OoOoOoO

Harry had just finished climbing the last step of the staircase which separated him from the second floor landing, the breath was running short of he having to hurry so as not to arrive late.

He advanced a few steps before finding himself in front of the ugly stone gargoyle that guarded the director’s office.

He glanced at her for a moment while wincing before giving the password.

“Acid Pops” he spoke, clearly.

The gargoyle suddenly came to life, straightening itself over its entire length before taking a step to the side to unlock the secret passage.

The wall widened to give way to the spiral staircase, which gradually materialized.

Harry climbed the steps until the massive oak door where he knocked with the griffon-shaped knocker. It opened itself and Dumbledore’s distant voice invited him in.

He walked to the centre of the circular room which he had visited a lot since the beginning of the year.

He waved to Fawkes with a nod of the head before taking a brief look at the Pensieve behind the door, and then walked to the wide desk with the feet shaped like a bird’s claws where Dumbledore was standing.

“Good evening Harry” his soft voice made, from his seat whose backrest exceeded him by several meters.

Harry could not help noticing that he seemed even more tired than their last interview and glanced at his hand with rings that swept over his blackened appearance.

“Good evening sir” he replied, raising the eyes to anchor them in the piercing blue that seemed to probe him.

“Sit down if you don’t mind, this may be a long discussion and I would be remiss if I kept you up when you must be exhausted.” Dumbledore said, pointing to a chair in front of his desk.

Harry moved there, because he was indeed exhausted from his exchange with Malfoy and had not yet finished recovering.

“Fine” Dumbledore said. “Before we start, how do you feel?” he added, looking at him carefully.

Harry raised his eyebrows, caught unawares.

“Uh… a little tired but Mrs Pomfrey said it was perfectly normal and I wasn’t doing too badly given the situation.” he replied, didn’t really know what else to say.

_Except I’m completely fucking lost…_

Dumbledore gave him a small indulgent smile before resuming.

“Poppy is right, Harry, you’re lucky to have very little physical damage, but what I want to know is how does your mind feel?”

Harry blinked his eyes, perplexed.

“Uh… fine?”

Dumbledore tilted his head a little forward to look over his glasses in half-moons.

“Have you noticed anything unusual or different since you woke up?” he asked in a serious tone.

Harry frowned and looked away at a pile of parchment on the desk. His eyes moved from left to right while he was seriously considering the issue.

_Does thinking about Malfoy all the time make me different?_

Thinking about it, he was already thinking about him before he found himself in an unknown future where they were in a relationship and lived together.

_But is it normal to feel all these emotions when I think about him?_

Harry didn’t think so. He was convinced that he had returned broken or damaged since the night he _touched_ him.

He didn’t want to talk to Dumbledore about it, though, his feelings didn’t matter what brought him here.

He was there for a specific reason and that was what he had to focus on.

“No, sir” he said, by closing everything about Malfoy in a corner of his head.

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, his piercing eyes seemed to pass through his thoughts as if he were trying to guess if he was telling the truth.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, looking at him carefully.

Harry was having trouble swallowing while his hands started to get sweaty.

“Yes, sir”

Dumbledore raised his head a little to put it back totally straight, the glass of his glasses clogging his eyes so disturbing.

“Good.” he nodded.

Harry felt the muscles of his shoulders relax a little and sigh inwardly.

“I imagine you’re dying to ask me all the questions that go through your head, but I would like, if you don’t mind, to ask you something else before you do it.” Dumbledore added.

Harry nodded his chin, well aware that there was no room for discussion.

“Have you ever heard of the phenomenon of alteration?” Dumbledore asked, stared at him intensely.

Harry raised his eyebrows before blinking several times, surprised by the question.

“I’ve read something like that before, yes, why?”

A small smile stretched Dumbledore’s lips before he lifted his head a little more by squinting his eyes.

“Well, you see, I may be wrong, although this happens only very rarely, but I hypothesize that you found yourself in one of them, or especially that you created it yourself.”

Harry opened wide his eyes.

“Wait, what? How does that “create”? How could I have done that?” He asked, while the panic was gaining ground inside him.

“This is the particularity of alteration phenomena, Harry. They exist only because we want them to and as a result of the choices we have made.” Dumbledore explained, quietly staring at him with his piercing eyes.

Harry frowned, trying to digest the facts.

“But… I don’t see what I did to get myself into it?” he retorted, seeking as far in his memories as his mind allowed him.

Dumbledore’s smile widened slightly as he still looked at Harry’s eyes with this heavy and overwhelming intensity.

“That’s a great question I can already answer” He said, obviously delighted that Harry put it to him.

Dumbledore caught his wand carelessly placed on his desk and directed it to a locked cabinet with a bronze padlock. He made a wrist movement and the cabinet opened in a small “click” before spreading one of the doors. A small pack came out, flying through the room to finally land in front of them.

“Do you recognize this?” he asked, pointing to the beautifully decorated little box.

Harry frowned, acknowledging without difficulty the object which was presented to him but did not really see what he was getting at.

“It’s a box of Cauldron Cakes yes, but what does it have to do with me?”

Dumbledore again lowered his head forward to look over his glasses in half-moons.

“Weren’t you eating it while you were spying on Mr. Malfoy on your map?” He asked, a little grin adorning his lips while his eyes sparkled with malice.

Harry felt himself pale at the evocation of one of the many nights when he had opened Marauder’s map in order to spy on Malfoy’s actions. This time he had cost him much more than he had wanted, but knowing that Dumbledore was aware of his way of dealing with Malfoy made him tense on his chair.

“Uh… yes, yes it seems, I don’t remember very well.” he replied with difficulty swallowing, a muscle of his jaw contracting painfully.

If Dumbledore did not approve of his manners, he let nothing appear, content to look at him and nodded before resuming.

“Do you remember where you got them? Did you buy them or were they given to you?”

Harry took a few seconds of reflection before replying, searching his memory for what it was.

“I bought them with Ron on the last Hogsmeade trip.”

He could feel his hands becoming strangely moist while Dumbledore’s blue eyes seemed to probe him on all sides in search of something of which he had no idea what.

“Are you sure you didn’t leave them lying around somewhere later?”

Harry frowned. He clearly remembered going to Honeydukes just after going around Flourish and Blotts so that Hermione could find a book. It had seemed like an eternity, and Ron had suggested that he wait for her at the Three Broomsticks not knowing how long it would take.

After that, they had toured the other shops and returned directly to Hogwarts for dinner.

“I don’t think so, we immediately went to the common room of the Gryffindors after returning.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly before looking down on the little package to contemplate it.

“Well, obviously someone found a way to bewitch them while you were turned around.”

Harry raised his eyebrows very high, his heart accelerating in his chest at this announcement.

“What? Wait, you think they were bewitched?”

Dumbledore turned his eyes to him to anchor them hard into his own.

“I don’t think so, Harry. I’m sure of it”

Harry’s breath became shorter, the air barely passing through his lungs which he felt being compressed under the weight of this information.

“But… who could…?” he began, before being abruptly interrupted.

“Unfortunately, I can’t answer that question. However, I can tell you about the potion that was used to charm them.”

Harry blinked his eyes before frowning.

“A potion?”

Dumbledore nodded his chin.

“I don’t know how that person got it and how she got it through the school, but it’s a particularly rare process.”

“What if someone had prepared it inside the castle?” Harry asked, hastily.

Dumbledore smiled.

“I thought about it. But it’s a very complicated potion to make, and unless you have an excellent level in this subject, it’s almost impossible for a student to do it.”

He said, pointing his wand at the packet to get the Cauldron Cakes out.

“Are you saying that it was someone outside the castle who took advantage of my trip to Hogsmeade to pour it into the Cauldron Cakes?” Harry asked, following with his eyes the little Cauldron Cakes fly from the bag to land on the desk in a straight line.

“I don’t know, Harry, but this person definitely knew what she was doing by integrating it into yours.” Dumbledore sighed, resting his hand on his desk.

“But what was the purpose?” Harry asked, puzzled, noticing that Dumbledore's damaged hand had not moved from where it was since they were talking.

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions I’m not sure of, but I think this person wanted to keep you away from reality as long as possible.” Dumbledore said, in a harsh voice, darkening the features of his incredibly wrinkled face.

Harry felt anger radiate his body to the dark thought that crossed his mind.

“Voldemort?” He asked, in a firm tone, tightening his fists on his thighs.

“No Harry. I don’t think Voldemort was behind this idea. Also, all Death Eaters are actively sought after and none can get close enough to Hogsmeade without being immediately intercepted.” Dumbledore replied, in a tone that was intended to be reassuring but that only accentuated the fear that seized his body as well as his mind.

“But then who?” Harry blew, his breath becoming more and more difficult to control as the conversation seemed terribly insane to him.

Dumbledore smiled at him.

“We’re going to have to find that out”

Harry was fast thinking, looking for a plausible way to achieve what Dumbledore was explaining to him.

“But unless being a student or a teacher, I don’t know how to get inside the castle without getting caught.” he retorted.

Dumbledore pinched his lips before passing a hand over the Cauldron Cakes which began to glow softly.

“That’s what worries me most about this story. But I hardly see a student making a potion of this magnitude. And I have full confidence in my teaching staff.” he said, lowering his hand and resting it on the desk.

Harry contemplated Cauldrons Cakes whose yellowish glow emanated around them.

“Even in Snape?” he asked with a hard voice, sticking his eyes into the Dumbledore’s eyes.

“ _Professor_ Snape, Harry. And yes, he has my full confidence.”

“So he’s obviously a student!” Harry retorted.

Dumbledore sighed deeply, his features sagging slightly. He suddenly seemed much older, like a helpless old man, overwhelmed by events.

“Unfortunately, without supporting evidence, we can only assume this possibility but aside from the fact that the potion is extremely complicated to make, it is indeed likely that a student managed to get one and get it into the castle.”

Harry’s heart missed a beat when a dreadful idea crossed his mind for a moment.

“But then… It would be someone from Gryffindor? How else could he pass the portrait? ” he breathed, his eyes anchored in the Cauldrons Cakes that were now floating a few inches from the office.

“This student might as well have taken the password from one of you, but let’s not discount the possibility that one of your roommates is equally guilty.”

Harry felt pale at the possibility that one of the Gryffindor’s was angry enough to want to push him away.

_But, what’s the reason?_

Who would want him so far out? And from what?

He did not have a clear idea of what might cause a student in his own home or one of the other three to be pushed him out.

Apart from Voldemort and his followers, he knew no one else capable of such things against him and certainly not a student.

_Unless…_

Harry frowned as he tried to unravel the situation. What student would be so disturbed that he would be plunged him into an indeterminate sleep?

“Maybe if I explain to you the effects of this potion, it will brighten up the identity of the guilty potential, what do you say?” Dumbledore’s voice made, bringing him back to the middle of his office.

Harry blinked his eyes, coming out of his inner reflection before he could put his finger on an idea he had felt emerge and nodded.

With a move of his wand, Dumbledore made appear the image of a potion with a golden aspect, who’s clear yellow reflections made it almost luminous in the small transparent bottle that floated in front of them.

“Commonly referred to as “Verus Somnium” ***** , this potion is used to induce the person who ingested it into an awake coma. Everything she experiences and feels is real and the universe she lands in.” he explained.

Harry opened wide his eyes.

“What… What do you mean by “real”?”

Dumbledore anchored his piercing blue eyes in the depths of his own, which had the effect of blocking his breathing completely.

“Everything you saw is real, Harry. Or rather, it became real from the moment you dreamed it.”

Harry frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

Dumbledore made a new wrist move and divided the Cauldron Cakes into two distinct parts before his eyes.

“It’s a peculiarity of this potion, it doesn’t just plunge you into a dream, it makes you _live_ the dream you invented and the most fascinating thing about it, Harry, is that it makes it a full-fledged reality in a universe parallel to ours.””

Harry could feel the panic returning to his brain, sweating through all the pores of his skin.

“You mean the dream I had… really exists?”

Dumbledore nodded with a light smile.

“Absolutely. This was not the case before you did it, but you yourself created an opening to another universe simply by using your subconscious.” he explained, passing his wand on the pile of Cauldron Cakes on his left to the right to demonstrate his theory.

Harry followed his move without really seeing it, too disturbed by what he had just learned.

“But… How is that possible? he asked, blinking, terrified.

“This is the beauty of this potion, Harry. It uses your deepest desires hidden deep inside you to make them real and live them to the fullest.”

Harry’s heart accelerated into his chest, who felt his breathing becoming almost erratic.

“My hidden desires…” He breathed for himself. “Wait, what I saw would be a reflection of what I really want to have? Kind of like the Mirror of Erised?” he asked.

Dumbledore stared at him intensely, his blue eyes gleaming strangely as a smile stretched his lips.

“That’s correct. I’m delighted that you take it as a reference, I myself would not have found a better way to explain how this potion works.”

“But… it’s impossible… I can’t want what happened! There must be a mistake!” Harry retorted in a breath, an insurmountable fear taking him to the guts as he stared at the Cauldron Cakes.

“I’m afraid not, Harry. Everything you went through in your dream is just part of what your heart deeply wants to happen.” Dumbledore replied.

Harry opened his eyes. He could feel the colours leaving his face while all his being was unravelling to leave only an empty shell.

“I… I can’t believe it…”

_“Maybe that’s what you always wanted, Potter…”_

It was difficult for him to swallow the memory of that sentence which resounded inside his head.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I wish I could have brought you better news, but I can’t possibly misrepresent the truth, even though sometimes it would be easier to digest.” Dumbledore replied, whose voice suddenly seemed farther away.

Harry no longer listened, his mind seemed clouded, obstructed by the many thoughts that seemed to want to make his brain their home.

_“Ask yourself if this was not the case before…”_

His heart missed a beat while Nott’s words were whistling in his ears, with light chills running through his body.

Harry wouldn’t believe it. He had very quickly swept away this nonsense, even though it seemed to have embedded itself in his mind, embedded in his flesh to burn his skin and burn his bowels.

The flask always floated in front of him, the golden reflections reflected through the room while the Cauldrons Cakes, still in suspension, shone with this faint yellowish glow.

_“Have you ever felt that way?”_

The beating of his heart struck harder against his chest, threatening to explode to escape.

The sound of the blows resonating against his temples became almost insurmountable by mingling with the stream of words that that asshole Slytherin had thrown at him at their last meeting.

Harry closed his eyes as strong as he could to stop facing the truth. He placed his hands on his ears so as not to hear what Nott kept telling him.

_“Maybe that’s what you always wanted, Potter…”_

_Enough, bloody hell! Enough!_

He felt like he was falling.

That his body could no longer stand him while he rushed into an abyss where Nott’s voice murmured and where he and Malfoy kissed.

He wanted to get rid of those fucking memories he had of that last night, where he had finally felt _good_.

He would have wanted to forget how their bodies had rubbed against each other, the pleasure he had felt when their cocks had touched.

The memory of the Pensieve, when he confessed to Malfoy that he enjoyed their meetings in the Astronomy Tower.

_“Am I the only one enjoying the evenings spent at the tower?”_

The frightened look when he approached him to press his lips against his own.

_“I- I need to- I need to check something…”_

Hermione and Ron in their matching dresses, the pain that had gone through their faces when he told them he had forget everything.

_“Harry… We’re getting married today, have you forgotten too?”_

Ron’s smile when he held his shoulder.

_“Did you doubt that? Who else could I have asked, if not my best friend?”_

He couldn’t breathe, the air seemed to have left his lungs to irrigate only his brain and put him in hyperventilation.

_“Ask yourself if this was not the case before…”_

He wanted to scream but the words were stuck in his throat. He could see nothing more than all those memories that were tirelessly spinning under his eyelids, cluttering his ears to prevent him from hearing what was going on around him.

_I have to get my act together! I have to stop thinking about this!_

Was Dumbledore still there?

_“You’ve always exhumed what I felt deep inside, even what bothered me and you’re the only one today to achieve this”_

Harry could feel the tears in his eyes, unable to open them to make it stop.

_“Have you ever felt that way?”_

He did not even have the strength to restrain the salty tears that he felt rolled against his cheeks.

_Fuck! That’s enough!_

No matter how much he screamed, he didn’t even know if the sounds were coming out of his mouth or from his thoughts.

_“Your eyes are surely by far what I’d remember about you.”_

His best friends on the wizarding portrait, the trophies of the team of Quidditch on the library of the welcoming lounge next to the fireplace with moulded edges.

_Stop it, please, stop it!_

The scent of the Amortentia, the ice on the deck in the frozen park.

_“Maybe that’s what you always wanted, Potter…”_

His last forces were leaving him, tiredness regaining control over all the information and events he had gone through in such a short time, completely defeating him.

_“We’re home…Potter”_

Memories and the murmuring began to dissipate to give way to darkness.

The edges of his eyelids seemed to shrink, bringing back the last memories to the centre of his pupils.

_“We’re together, Har… Potter... for almost 8 years now,”_

Harry felt his conscience give up, his body sink under the weight of realities, the weight of the fucking truth.

_“Maybe that’s what you always wanted, Potter…”_

Visions were only small luminous points, the sounds of faint whistling barely perceptible now.

He felt his hands drop his ears to fall heavily down his flanks. His breathing had slowed considerably and the heartbeat no longer seemed to want to pass through his chest.

Harry felt he could open his eyes. He had finally done it. He had succeeded in eradicating the evil dreams of his mind. The small spots escaped from his retina as he lifted his eyelids.

And when he finally opened them completely, all he encountered was black.

_“What you’ve always hoped for…”_

**_* Waking Dream (in Latin)_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to read :)
> 
> Kisses,
> 
> Zee


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